


Niall Niall Niall

by VCCV



Series: NiallNiallNiall [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 20:43:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17649545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VCCV/pseuds/VCCV
Summary: Harry is sexually assaulted. Niall is there for him.





	Niall Niall Niall

**Author's Note:**

> Playing with the timeline. Either it’s off by a month and a half, or you can completely disregard the order of the dates on the European leg and pretend they were done backwards. Either way, it’s fanfic. Suspend your disbelief.

“Oi, and did you see his face when that reporter asked how ‘close’ our relationships were?” Zayn laughed, elbowing a blushing Niall.

“He turned bright red, didn’t he?” Louis cackled, pulling Niall’s head down to his chest to rub his knuckles over the blond’s hair. “He side-eyed Harry and started stuttering!”

“Feck off,” Niall muttered, jerking his head away from Louis’ pointy knuckles. “Did not.”

Liam smiled fondly at his friend. “Well, maybe not stuttering,” he amended, ever the peacemaker. “But there was blushing and side-eyeing. On both parts,” he added, fairly. Niall perked up and glanced at Liam hopefully for a moment before the combined hysteria of Louis and Zayn had him hunching back into his shirt.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, throwing himself on the bed he’d claimed in the hotel room he and Harry shared. The interview hadn’t been difficult. The questions were pretty typical. They’d all answered them with the canned answers that came from being asked the same question 50 times. Repetition aside, interviews were never boring. They were all rowdy enough young men that they kept each other entertained in every situation. Today was no different. 

Harry had been sat beside him on the couch this time, and no questions were seldom interesting enough to keep Harry Styles completely entertained. So, he occupied the time between his responses by poking Niall in the side and tickling him where the cameras couldn’t see. Niall was on the verge of laughter the whole interview.

He knew that a lot of fans’ comments on his perpetual laughter and happiness actually stemmed from Harry’s endless quest to see how long Niall can hold out against Harry’s relentless taunting assaults. Not that he minded in the slightest. Any time Harry was touching him was heaven. And any time Harry wasn’t touching him, bouts of jealous irritation over whomever Harry was touching plagued him.

Harry had just given him a really good poke, and a bark of laughter escaped his throat, interrupting Liam’s standard answer on crowds screaming for them. The other boys just grinned at the two of them and went back to pretending to pay attention to the reporter. Harry hid his mouth behind his hand, but his mirth was reflected in the squint of his eyes and the shiny glint of tears of laughter. Niall just squirmed ineffectually and elbowed Harry who didn’t look in the least repentant.

The reporter stopped her line of questioning to look carefully at the two boys. She did an about face and leaned in. “So, boys,” she smiled wickedly. “Everywhere I look, I see pictures of you constantly touching each other.” Niall froze like a deer in headlights. “Today, in fact, Niall…you and Harry look _quite_ chummy. How close _really_ are you boys with one another?”

Liam was correct, there was no stuttering, but only because Liam selflessly redirected her attention by spinning a long rambling story of how they were just like brothers and being on the road all the time probably gave them fewer personal boundaries with each other. Niall did, however, turn bright red and cut his eyes at Harry several times. Harry behaved until the end of the interview, but Niall knew there would be quite a bit of good-natured teasing coming his way for the rest of the night.

When they’d exited the interview, they’d made plans to head up to Niall and Harry’s room to decompress before crashing. Harry waved them on saying he had to have a wee first and he’d meet them there. He’d given Niall one last tickle before darting toward the bathroom and Niall had entered the lift with a quiet smile on his face that was in no way affected by the outright grins on the faces of the other three lads. And so now, they were all sat lounging on beds and lolling about in the floor seeing who could pull the reddest blush from Niall. 

Niall glared ineffectually at them, and plucked the TV remote from the nightstand. He smashed the ON button, determined to ignore the other boys. And it worked for quite some time. Long enough that he was actually beginning to wonder if Harry’d been stopped by fans in the hallways. Then his phone vibrated, and even as his heart sped up, he huffed when Louis’ eyes lit up. He knew what Louis was going to say when he pulled the phone from his pocket. 

“I bet that’s Loverboy now!” Louis crowed. “I mean, you’ve been separated for longer than five minutes. That’s an eternity for Harry, Nialler.” He lunged for the phone when Niall thumbed it open, but Niall rolled backward to keep the phone out of Louis’ clutches. 

Unfortunately, he couldn’t stop the flush that spread over his cheeks again, nor the tiny smile he got when he realized it was indeed Harry sending him a clip. Glancing back up at the merriment swimming in Louis’ eyes, he thumbed the screen closed and went back to punching the channel button on the remote. 

Perhaps another five minutes went by, just long enough for Niall to get distracted, and Louis struck. He lunged for the phone now laying at Niall’s side and, when he’d wrapped his hand around it, threw himself off of the bed and on to the floor. Niall shouted out a curse and went after him, but Zayn rolled into Niall’s path and they both went down in a flurry of limbs.

By the time the separated, Niall knew there was no way he was getting his phone back. He dropped down on the end of the bed and glared at Louis and Zayn when the other boy got to his feet and joined the thief. Liam plopped down next to him and wrapped a commiserating arm around Niall’s shoulders.

“Don’t worry, Niall,” Liam murmured. “You had your lockscreen on, yeah?” Niall’s eyes widened and he moved to nod happily when a howl of victory came from the other side of the room.

“Yes!” Louis pumped a fist into the air, shrugging when both Liam and Niall glared at him. “What? You thought ‘Guinness’ was difficult to figure out?” He snorted and held the phone out to share with Zayn. A few swipes later and Louis added, “Ha! Here we go…”

Niall nastily hoped it was a clip of Harry making his taking-a-shit face. Niall had been the recipient of that one way too many times to count. It would serve Louis and that traitor Zayn right.

“What the fuck is going on?” came the tinny sound of Harry’s voice through the speaker. Niall’s head came up like a bloodhound’s when he heard a hint of fear in Harry’s voice. Louis and Zayn were frowning at the screen, but when a wet thud sounded a moment later, their eyes went wide and they looked from the phone to Niall in horror.

Niall didn’t hesitate to launch himself across the room and snatch the phone out of Louis’ hands. He turned it toward himself and the other three boys readjusted around him to stare helplessly at the screen.

_________________________________________________________

Harry grinned as Niall danced away from his last poke. “I’ll be up in a minute, lads,” he called out, heading for the discreetly signed restroom across the hall. He gave a last wave and darted into the room. He’d had to wee for the last 20 minutes. The real reason he’d finally stopped teasing Niall wasn’t because of the reporter’s stupid question, but rather if Niall squirmed or squealed anymore, Harry would have wet his pants.

And anyway, it gave him a few more minutes to plan for the rest of the evening. There was no way he wasn’t plastering himself to Niall’s side all night. Not only was the older boy the easiest human on earth to pick at, Harry’s heart melted every time Niall’s laughter rang out. He’d thought long and hard about his feelings for the other boy. He didn’t know if ‘love’ was the right word, but he knew that ‘friend’ wasn’t even close to how he felt. He felt happier. He had more fun. His occasional bouts of sadness ended faster. He felt like he loved life more whenever Niall was around. Being near Niall just made everything _better_. 

But he also knew that the boy had made no overtures that couldn’t be deemed as friendship. Good friends, yes. Maybe even best friends. But, friends, nonetheless. Harry tried to spread his affection throughout his other bandmates so as not to suffocate Niall, but it was getting harder by the day to jump on Liam’s back, or hug Zayn, or share a smile with Louis, when all he wanted was to be attached to Niall 24/7.

Harry finished up at the urinal and waved his hand under the faucet to start washing his hands when the door flew open. He jumped and turned to see four young men, all significantly larger than himself, push in through the doorway. He quickly turned his eyes back to the sink and finished rinsing his hands, hoping none of them would recognize him. Nothing was worse than being asked to take a photo with someone in the toilet.

As he turned away to reach for the hand towel, one of the new arrivals blocked his arm. Harry took a step backward and warily eyed the man. All four were dressed in jeans and baggy hooded jackets, and all had irritated looks on their faces. The one in front of him was blond. He looked Harry up and down, then gave a slow smirk.

Harry frowned. “Uh…can I help y—” He was cut off, giving a squeak as his arms were grabbed from behind him. He tried to twist his head to see the man who held him, but he could only get a glimpse of red hair as he was practically lifted off of the ground. He pulled in a breath to scream and the blond smacked a hand down over his mouth.

“Let’s go,” the blond waggled his eyebrows at Harry and two brunets jumped into action. The first held the door, looking out into the hallway. The second took up position behind the odd trio of shuffling bodies as they rushed down the hall: the blond--his hand still over Harry’s mouth, Harry, and the redhead who was nearly carrying Harry.

A moment later, and the lead brunet shoved the stairwell doors open, holding them as the trio squished through. They continued down the stairs and squeezed through another door labelled ‘basement’. They headed deeper into the dreary, poorly lit underbelly of the hotel. They walked--or in Harry’s case, was carried—quite a ways until they left the beaten path and entered into what was clearly a storage area. 

The first brunet pushed a heavy door open and flicked a light on, moving out of the way for the others to shove in behind him. As soon as the door shut behind the last of them, the redhead practically threw Harry down. Harry staggered a bit before catching his balance and spinning around to face his kidnappers.

He stared wide-eyed, unable to say anything, as three of the four pulled out ski masks and donned them. The fourth, the blond man, stepped up and reached behind Harry to grab at his arse. Harry squeaked in terror and tried to jump away, but the man only grinned nastily and pulled back holding Harry’s phone. He tossed it to the redhead who caught it and started fiddling with it.

“Password?” the redhead muttered absently.

“What? No!” Harry managed to squeak out breathily.

The blond had pulled a ski mask out of his own jacket pocket and pulled it on. Now, he stepped forward and raised a fist to Harry’s face. Harry jerked back and nearly fell. “Password,” the blond repeated, baring his teeth.

“I-it’s ‘Mullingar’,” Harry whispered, his eyes taking in the nearly bare room, hoping to find an exit he could dart through. Unfortunately, there was nothing but chairs stacked up in the corners of the room, and one lone table sitting out in the middle of the open.

“How do you spell that?” Redhead asked.

Blond snorted. “For fuck’s sake, just type it in like it sounds. If that doesn’t work, add another ‘l’ or something.”

Redhead glared, but dutifully began poking at the screen. “Got it!” he announced a moment later, and continued to press the screen. Shortly, he had the phone held up and pointed at the blond and Harry, and he moved around to the side to get a better view.

Harry had an almost overwhelming desire to just curl up and cry. “What the fuck is going on?” he choked out. The blond stepped in and before Harry could duck, snatched the boy up by his neck scarf and lifted him up one-handed onto his tip-toes. Harry, grasping at the man’s bicep, didn’t have a free hand to block the cudgel-like punch from the man’s other fist.

He would have fallen had it not been for the man’s grip. But then, the man used that grip to haul Harry up and punch him again. Given his givens, Harry would rather have fallen on his arse. After the second punch, Harry’s ears were ringing. He could feel the heat of the bruise he knew was forming on his face, and he felt a wet line drip down his chin. He was pretty sure from the copper penny taste that it was blood.

“You need to be taught a lesson, little rich boy,” Blond snarled into his face before throwing Harry backwards. Harry stumbled again, but righted himself just before running into the two brunets now behind him.

“What?” he asked, reaching up to touch the wet spot on his face and eyeing it just long enough to prove it was, indeed, blood. “Why m—" he cut himself off abruptly, not really sure he wanted to know why.

Blond snorted a laugh. “Why…you? That what you were gonna ask? Well, let me tell you, why you. Us lads are fucking sick and tired of drowning in your queer arsed ‘boy-band’. It’s all we hear from our girls. That’s all they ever do, is listen to you, sing your bloody stupid songs, watch you on YouTube.” He waved his arm angrily and Harry flinched.

“They’d sell their bloody fucking arses for tickets to see you. Well, now we’re gonna let them see you up close and personal.” He leaned in with a smirk. “Really close and personal. We’re sick of it, and we’re gonna do something about it. But…it doesn’t have to be you.” He leaned back and crossed his arms, looking almost magnanimous. “You get on your phone and call one of your little poofter band mates down here to take your place, and you can head right on back up to your room.”

Harry looked horrified at the idea and Blond laughed, a huge guffaw that echoed through the room. “No? Can’t make the call? Well, you can text them, yeah? Oh! Better yet, I can text them for you! Which one will it be? The bints all seem to like that scrawny one who sings like a girl. Louis, yeah?” He leaned back in slyly and lowered his voice. “I bet you, though…you’re on for that little blond bitch, aren’t you? What’s his name? Neil?”

“Niall,” Redhead responded from behind the camera. One of the brunet twins snorted a laugh, and Blond gave an incredulous glare. “What?” Redhead shifted uncomfortably. “He’s my girl’s favorite. And other than the black haired one, he’s the only one you can tell the difference between, anyway,” he muttered sullenly.

“Whatever,” Blond sneered. “So, yeah? Want me to text little Niall, instead?”

Harry’s gaze shot up from where he’d been avoiding the larger man’s stare. “No!” he answered, his chin tilted defiantly. “I won’t…I won’t let you hurt him.”

They all gave a round of laughter, Blond even stepping back to wrap an arm around his own gut as he barked out his laugh. “No?” he pulled himself together. “Well, to make that happen, you’re gonna have to let us hurt you, instead. Course, you can always tap out anytime. We’ll swap places with the two of you, no questions.”

“No!” Harry shook his head vigorously. “No…swapping. Fine. Do whatever. I don’t care. Just leave Niall alone.” He swallowed, his throat feeling tight, like he was already choking.

“Perfect,” Blond practically purred. “Gentlemen, we have consent.”

“What?” Harry had enough time to frown before the larger man stepped up and buried his fist in Harry’s gut. The air whooshed out of Harry’s lungs and he bent in half like a broken branch. When he managed to suck air back in, he immediately expelled it with a coughing fit. 

“Hmmm,” Blond pursed his lips. “I can’t see my pretty painting with all of those clothes on. Strip ‘em off, pretty boy,” he demanded. “I want to see my handiwork.”

Harry heaved in another lungful of air, thankful when it stayed put. His eyes were watering and his nose had started to drip. He squinted up at the man. “Wh—” he managed before another shot to the chest knocked him backward several feet.

“Get ‘em off, Nancy.”

Harry reached behind his head and grasped his jumper, pulling it up and over his head. Before it cleared the top, Blond had punched him again. He gagged a little bit, trying not to throw up from the lack of oxygen and the crater of pain forming on his chest. Once his shirt was off, he clutched it against him like a shield.

Blond grinned as Brunet number one, with an orange mask, swiped Harry’s legs out from under him. Harry’s eyes widened as the world tipped on him suddenly and he dropped the shirt to catch himself. Orange Mask kicked the shirt away and Blond stepped up to launch another kick to Harry’s side.

“Lose the trousers, too,” he added, giving Harry’s thigh a hard stomp. Harry whimpered and tried to curl away from Blond’s leg, but the man just stepped closer.

“Lose the trousers, I said,” he repeated with a growl. Harry undid the belt and scooted out of his loose trousers. They got hung up on his boots and the Blond snorted. “Take the shoes off.” Harry hesitated for a moment, but as the man lifted his leg off the ground again, Harry rushed to comply. He yanked his boots off and his socks as well and sat shivering and terrified in his boxer briefs.

His knew his face had to be blotchy red and the tears raced down his cheeks faster than he could wipe them away. He pulled his legs up to awkwardly cover his bits, and stared directly at the floor in front of him trying not to make eye contact.

Blond stepped forward again and a hand entered Harry’s periphery, waiting. The hand waggled impatiently and one of the other men cleared his throat. Harry flinched and his hand shot out toward Blond’s. The man’s hand wrapped around Harry’s smaller wrist and he yanked. Harry came flying up off of the ground and smacked into the man’s chest.

“I think I’m gonna change the endgame here, pretty boy,” Blond breathed into Harry’s face. “Whatdya think about that?” Harry just trembled, his eyes wide with terror. Blond thrust Harry backward and gestured with his chin. “Take them pants off, too.”

Harry’s eyes widened even further and his breath caught in his throat. “N-no!” he stuttered. “Why do…n-no, please!”

Blond bared his teeth and reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a flick knife. He thumbed the blade open and brandished it toward Harry. “I won’t ask again, pretty boy.”

Harry shook his head frantically, hunching over slightly, trying to make himself look smaller. Blonde sighed, then took the steps necessary to press himself up against Harry’s shaking body. He inserted the blade under the elastic waistband and with a grin and a downward swipe, cut apart the material. 

He made no effort to be careful, and the burn of the blade raking down Harry’s leg caused Harry to cry out and try to jerk back. A hard body moved in behind him and he bounced off of Orange Mask’s chest and back in to Blond. Harry desperately clutched at the now loose fabric and looked wildly between the two men. 

Blond chuckled. “You can take them the rest of the way off, or I can get the other side for you.” 

His throat tight with soundless sobs, Harry slowly pried his fingers off of the material and hesitantly pushed the other half of his boxer briefs to his feet. He took a tiny sideways step to get out of them and to get out from in-between his two captors. He attempted to cover his crotch with his cupped hands, his whole body flushing red with shame. 

“All right, then!” Blond smirked, appreciatively eyeing Harry. “Boys, put him on the table.”

Harry froze. His eyes went wide with horror and his chest felt like someone had him in a vise. He only managed a twitch of his body before Orange Mask and the other brunet in a green mask had him by both arms. They lifted him up even as he began to whimper, “No! Please, no! Not…please…not…” His legs kicked futilely, trying to land a blow, trying to catch on something, but their hands only tightened on his arms.

His tears fell like a river, and he could feel his body go cold with dread. He thrashed and screamed, the room spinning wildly in front of his terrified eyes. Moments later, Green and Orange Masks had deposited him, none-to-gently, on the cold table, facing Blond.

Orange Mask quickly snatched both of Harry’s wrists up and yanked them up over Harry’s head, holding them off of the back edge of the table. Green Mask just leaned in and held Harry’s chest to the table. Harry continued to kick out wildly until Blond stepped in and pinned Harry’s thighs to the table with little effort.

“Please! Please don’t do this,” Harry sobbed, squirming frantically. “Please don’t hurt me!”

Blond grinned. “Now, now, pretty boy. You tapping out already? Got your phone right here. No problem to ring up little Niall.” Harry’s thrashing stilled immediately, his chest heaving with exertion. “You can go back to your room, safe as houses. Just say the word. That what you want?” Harry weakly shook his head. Any further words dried up in his mouth, and he settled limply on the table, all the fight gone from his body. 

Blond laughed. “Aw, such a little martyr. Baby Boy Niall doesn’t even know what he has in you, does he? Doesn’t know what you’ll do to keep him safe. It’s just the most precious thing,” he cooed. “Now, let’s see what you two have really been up to, yeah?”

He turned loose of Harry’s legs, but the long pale limbs just lay lifelessly on the table. With a nod of satisfaction, Blond undid his own belt and trousers and pushed then down to his knees. Harry stayed deathly still, tears soundlessly pouring off of his face.

Blond hefted Harry’s legs up and braced them on the edge of the table, narrowing his eyes as he waited for any resistance. Satisfactorily, there was none. “Hmmm,” Blond inspected the region beyond Harry’s thighs carefully. “Now, I don’t want you thinking I give a shite if this is pleasant for you or not, but I don’t particularly want my cock chafed raw, so…any of you blokes got lube or something on you?”

Redhead took one hand off of Harry’s phone to rummage in his pocket and came out with a tube of Chapstick. “Uh, will this work?”

Blond took it from his hand and snorted. “Really, mate? Cherry?”

Redhead grinned. “Fitting, though, in’it? You popping his cherry?”

“I don’t think I’m the first visitor to this back door, mate,” Blonde chuckled. “Not with the way these poofters hang all over each other.” He took the cap off of the Chapstick and cranked it up, then smeared it all over his cock. He took a deep breath. “Mmm, well, that does smell nice, don’t it?”

He tossed the empty tube onto the floor and took hold of Harry’s legs again, pushing them up over his chest. Harry jerked helplessly and gave a small, pitiful whimper before squeezing his eyes shut and biting his lip. 

It didn’t help.

Blond poked around for a moment, lining himself up, before all out ramming his cock into Harry’s unprepared hole. He hit bottom and barked out a laugh that couldn’t be heard over the blood-curdling shriek of pain that Harry let loose. Before Harry could draw another breath to continue his scream, Green Mask slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Hey, enough of that howling,” he said mildly. “Bite your tongue and think of England. Or pretend it’s your little poofter friend.”

Blond, currently balls deep in Harry’s guts, grinned wickedly. He pulled back out, glanced down and snorted. “Well, now, I’m not usually wrong, but I guess there’s a first time for everything, eh?” He reached down and swiped his fingers over his exposed cock, then pulled them up to peer intently at them. “Looks like pretty boy here doesn’t usually bottom!” He wiped his bloody fingers on Harry’s pale abdomen, right between his leaves. “Don’t worry, pretty boy. I’ll break you in good. By the time my mates get up in here, you should be all loose and sloppy.” 

Harry moaned, his head thrashing back and forth. Tears poured off of his face, mixing with the tiny snot bubbles he blew attempting to breathe around the gigantic meaty paw clamped over his lower face. Blond just continued merrily pumping away. Every now and then he batted at one of Harry’s legs as Harry weakly continued trying to push him away.

By the time Blond was ready to come, Harry’s legs—and Harry—had given up the fight and he lay limp and still. The only movement he made was from the thrusting of the man on top of him. A final deep slam and grunt heralded the end of Harry’s torture and Blond pulled out, wiping his cock on Harry’s inner thigh.

“Well!” he nodded with a grin as he tucked his cock back in his trousers. “I have to say, that was much more satisfying than just punching you until you stopped moving. Who’s next?”

Harry attempted to draw his legs in, trying to ball himself up against further violation. Green Mask distractedly punched his thigh muscle, uncurling Harry’s leg immediately. “Yeah, thanks, but he’s not my type,” he responded.

Blonde turned to Orange Mask who shrugged. “Me neither, mate.”

“I’ll have a go!” Redhead offered eagerly, holding out the phone to Blond as they switched places, already undoing his trousers. Slotted into place, he lifted Harry’s legs up and thrust in to the hilt. A weak moan and a single sob were the only responses Harry made this time, so Green Mask lifted his hand up off of his mouth.

Blond circled Harry’s body, zooming in on Redhead’s cock invading Harry’s bleeding body, then panned up over the bruised chest until he reached Harry’s face. He stepped up to Harry’s head and leaned in.

“Now, pretty boy, you’re gonna do something for me. I want you to look into this camera and tell my girl, you’re just not interested in her. In any women, really. You’re gonna tell her she’s wasting her time, and mine, with this ridiculous obsession of hers.”

Harry slitted his eyes open and turned his head. “Please…” he whispered hoarsely.

Blond punched Harry in the mouth with the hand free of the camera. Harry’s head rocked back and a tiny stream of blood began to pour from his mouth.

“Say it, little bitch,” Blond snarled. “Say the words.”

Mush mouthed and crying, Harry managed to croak out, “I’m not interested in women. Please stop.”

“Good boy,” Blond sneered. “Now you’re gonna tell her what you really want. Why it is she has no hope in hell with ya.” Harry’s brow furrowed in confusion, and Blond punched in in the temple. Harry’s head was much slower to return this time. “Tell her who you really want. Tell her about your little flower. The one you’re saving from our big, bad clutches. The one you have your little queer heart set on.”

“Niall,” Harry whispered, his eyes falling shut. 

“Yeah, Niall. Tell her it’s him you want,” Blond demanded.

“Niall,” Harry repeated softly. “I want Niall. I want Niall. I—” His voice broke and tears made fresh watery red tracks from the corner of his eye down to his ears. “I want Niall. NiallNiallNiall…” Harry seemed to get lost in the words and after a good 15 seconds of him just muttering Niall’s name over and over, Blond punched him in the head again. Though Harry’s head rolled away from the camera again, he made no effort to bring it back and just continued whispering Niall’s name like a prayer.

Redhead finished loudly, grunting and pulling out to spray his load all over Harry’s bruised torso. “All right, then!” he grinned. 

Blond rolled his eyes and stepped back. “Yeah, whatever. Lads, toss him on the floor and we’ll get out of here.”

Orange and Green Masks chucked him off the table and stepped around his body to the door. Redhead zipped up and trotted after them. Blond zoomed back out to capture Harry’s whole body, crumpled on the ground, then turned the camera on himself.

“I sure hope you boys get here in time,” he grinned. “Little lad seems a bit worse for wear. I suppose I should give you a hint where to find him, yeah?” He barked out another laugh and stepped out the door, closing it on Harry’s slight frame trembling in the old concrete floor. He focused the camera on a small sign by the door that said _‘Storage B6_ ’, then flipped it again. “Now, cover your eyes, count to 100 and come find him!”

He shut the video off with a snicker, saved it, then opened the phone screen. He sent the video to a number he typed in and then went to the contacts list. Scrolling though, he located ‘ _Nialler_ ’ and opened up a message. – **You’re gonna want to see this!** —he typed. He attached the video, hit send, and tossed the phone next to the door before disappearing down the dark corridor with a bright chuckle.

_________________________________________________________

There was a moment of absolute silence after the clip ended. 

Then, “Fuck!” as Niall dropped the phone straight to the floor and practically tripped over Louis as he bolted for the hotel door. “Storage B6…basement…basement…Jesus, Harry!” he muttered, banging into the door first before getting ahold of the handle and slamming it open against the wall.

By the time the other boys had righted themselves, Louis had snatched up the phone and stuffed it into his pocket, and everyone had made it to the door, Niall was already all the way down the hallway. He was pounding his fist against the elevator call button, cursing loudly between sobs.

Paul flung his own door open as he heard the boys thundering down the hallway. “Hey! Lads! What the hell are you up to?” he demanded. The elevator gave a ding and Niall was pushing his way through the doors before they were even six inches open. Paul launched into motion and chased down the boys getting into the elevator. He got there just as the doors were closing and he jammed a hand between them to open them back up.

As he stepped in, he was greeted with curses and teary faces. Blinking in confusion, he pushed the close door button and noticed the basement level light was on. “What’s up, lads?” he asked, concerned.

“It’s Harry,” Liam choked out, grabbing Paul’s arm. “Someone’s taken him and…and…”

“They’ve hurt him, haven’t they?” Zayn took over, wiping his own eyes. “Hurt him bad. They send us a video of… of what they done. It’s…it’s bad, Paul.”

“I don’t know what’s going on, but we need to get you boys someplace safe, then we’ll call the police, yeah?” Paul soothingly patted Liam’s hands clenched around his shirt sleeve. The elevator dinged again and the doors whooshed open onto the basement floor. Paul reached out to push the button for their room floor again and found himself suddenly flailing to keep on his feet.

Niall knocked Paul’s arm out of the way and body checked him into Liam, slamming past him and racing down the corridor. Paul shouted out to him, but Niall didn’t even acknowledge him. He slowed down to check door numbers a couple of times, then took off around the corner. When Louis and Zayn took off after him, Paul just sighed and dragged Liam with him as he raced after the boys.

When they made the corner, they saw Niall throw open a door halfway down the hall. “Harry?” Niall cried out frantically, his voice tinged with fear. “Harry, you here? Har—Jesus, Harry…” his voice petered out to a whisper as he took in the small body curled up on the floor.

He went into a kneeling slide into Harry’s side, absently noting how much his knees were going to hurt later, and he carefully turned Harry’s body over onto his back. Niall’s hands fluttered helplessly around Harry’s face as the younger boy fell still again. 

“Is he breathing? What do we do?” Liam called out as he stepped in through the door.

“Harry?” Niall whispered. “Hazza, please!” He closed his hands around Harry’s swollen face and Harry’s eyelids flickered. “Haz, wake up! Harry’s eyes fluttered open and when he saw Niall’s face, his lips curled into a tiny smile. 

“Niall,” he whispered hoarsely, his eyelids falling shut again. Then they shot open and he stared in horror. “No! Niall, you have to go! You have to leave! Please, just go! Go!”

“No, Harry, nonono…they’re gone, love.” Niall petted Harry’s cheeks. “Those men are gone. They sent the video to us. That’s how we found you. Then they left. They’re gone and you’re safe. We have you.”

Harry glanced past Niall, gaze catching on Louis’ fury, Zayn’s wet cheeks and Liam’s death grip on Paul’s arm. “Oh, God, you saw it?” he whispered, horrified. The truth was painted on everyone’s face. He flinched and tried to curl around his naked body, but cried out when the pain lanced through him.

Niall leaned over and wrapped his arms around him. “Hazza, stop. You’ll hurt yourself.” He tried to find a balance between tightly holding on so Harry didn’t disappear, but loose enough that the pained whimpers would stop. “Doesn’t matter what we saw, does it? No! We love you. No matter what. We love you and we need to get you to a hospital.”

Niall felt a jostle to his shoulder and glanced up to see Zayn holding out Harry’s shirt and trousers. “See? Zayn’s got your kit here.” He nodded in thanks at the quietly fretting dark-haired boy. “I’m going to help you put it on and then we’re gonna get you help.”

Louis stepped up soundlessly and helped Niall pull Harry’s shirt on over his head and get his trousers fed up onto his legs. Liam finally released Paul’s arm to move behind Harry, tucking his hands up under Harry’s armpits to gently lift him to his feet. Niall carefully zipped Harry’s trousers up as Louis settled the shirt down around his waist. When they turned him loose, however, Harry lurched sideways. Liam, Louis and Niall lunged forward to keep him upright until Paul just sighed and firmly pushed the boys aside, swinging Harry up into his massive arms.

“I got him,” he said gruffly. “Liam, call the car around. Ambulance will just cause a paparazzi nightmare.” The boys positioned themselves around Paul and Harry, ready to fend off any potential photographers or screaming girls, but the trip to the side entrance was uneventful. Paul took the front seat with the driver and the other boys piled in the back, all desperate to keep a hand on Harry and fuck seat belts as they screamed down the road to the nearest hospital.

As soon as they cleared the entrance doors, it was clear that someone was in the know about who they were. Harry skipped right to the front of the line and was taken off on a gurney surrounded by nurses and aides. Harry’s eyes were wide in fright as he was pulled away from his bandmates. He reached a hand out to Niall, and Niall tried to push forward to follow, but he was stopped by a large male nurse.

“Sorry, lad,” the man said firmly. “Patients only.”

“But…but he needs me! Us…someone. He’s scared!” Niall protested.

The nurse shook his head. “We have it handled. He’ll be fine. Just have a seat and someone will be out shortly to let you know what’s going on.”

Paul pulled a half-resistant Niall back into a seat next to Louis and Liam before stepping away to make some phone calls. The remaining four boys huddled together, silent tears slipping down their faces as they tried to comfort one another. 

Barely 15 minutes later, the same male nurse stepped back out of the waiting room doors, a sheepish look on his face. “Er…which of you lads is Niall?” he asked.

Niall jumped to his feet. “What’s wrong? Is he all right? What’s happened?” he demanded.

The nurse held out a reassuring hand. “I may have been a bit premature in saying we had it handled. He’s rather agitated and it’s likely he’ll hurt himself further if he continues. We’d sedate him, normally, but we can’t get near him without hurting him or making him more frightened. He keeps crying out for a ‘Niall’. So, if that’s you, perhaps you could come back and calm him down enough that we can get a look at what’s wrong with him?”

Niall glanced hesitantly back to the other three boys, but they all waved him on. “Go. Help Haz,” Louis frowned. “Here, take your phone so you can text us when we can come see him. Tell him we love him.” Liam and Zayn both nodded in agreement, so Niall snagged the phone and jogged over to follow the nurse back to the A&E proper.

He heard Harry long before he saw him. The high-pitched, injured whine hurt his heart. And when he got close enough, he could hear his name on repeat: NiallNiallNiall…over and over again. Just like on the video. That hurt his soul, and he pushed past the nurse he was following to dart ahead into the room where he could hear his Harry calling him.

Harry was surrounded by nurses, orderlies and nursing aides. Even a couple of members of security were there. Harry was backed up into a corner of the room, practically under the bed and the miscellaneous rolling medical bits and bobs. Every few seconds, another person would reach for him and he’d respond with more of that agonized whining and kicks. He was doing a pretty good job of keeping everyone at bay, honestly. 

Niall pushed his way through the bodies, barely even noting the first male nurse waving off the security guard who moved to intercept him. He ended up on his knees again, but well out of kicking range. “Harry? Harry, I need you to look at me,” he called gently. Harry curled further into a ball, burying his face in the crook of his arm.

“No,” he moaned. “Nononono...NiallNiallNiall…”

“Harry…Hazza! It’s Niall. Look at me. Haz, please.” Niall’s arms ached with not holding Harry, not protecting him from this. He didn’t know if he sounded as wrecked as he felt, but he suspected he did, because Harry peeked over the barrier of his arm and his tear-drenched eyes widened.

“Niall?” Harry whispered.

“Yeah, Hazza,” Niall whispered back, trying to find a smile. “It’s me. It’s Niall.” Harry launched himself across the small space, nearly taking out the blood pressure monitor. Niall wrapped his arms around Harry and held on so hard, he would’ve worried about hurting him had Harry not held back just as tightly. “Hazza, we need to get you looked at,” Niall murmured against Harry’s curls. “I know you don’t want to, but you’re hurt, Haz. We have to see how badly.”

“Don’t leave,” Harry begged, his voice so small against Niall’s neck.

“No, I’m not leaving, love,” Niall replied, raising his voice so the others in the room could understand that there would be no further catering to ‘hospital rules’ and anyone who pushed would not receive his cooperation. “Can you stand up, love?” Harry nodded, but clung to Niall like he was afraid the boy would disappear. Niall just clutched him back and practically lifted him to his feet. Harry peered distrustfully at the assembled bodies around him.

“C’mon, pet,” Niall said quietly, drawing Harry’s attention back. “Let’s climb up on the bed, yeah?” Harry silently followed Niall’s direction and lay back on the bed, the sheets rustling under him. When Niall moved back to allow the staff to approach, Harry came back up off of the bed with a panicked cry. Niall stepped back to the bed and grasped Harry’s hand tightly. “It’s okay, love. I’m right here. I’ll be here the whole time.”

A nurse, an older woman with a kind face, stepped up past all the other bodies and smiled. “He’s right as rain, love,” she said softly. “He’ll not be thrown out. Your young man will be right here next to you.” She turned her face to Niall. “And you are…?”

“Niall, ma’am,” he answered, trying to return her smile. 

“Excellent! Lovely accent, Niall. And you’re very lucky to get to listen to it, dear,” she looked back at Harry. “Now, what are you called?”

Harry wouldn’t look up; he just squeezed Niall’s hand harder. “Er…he’s called Harry,” Niall offered, petting Harry’s fingers.

“Wonderful!” the nurse beamed. “Niall and Harry. Good, strong names. So, Harry, I’m going to need to get some stats from you. Blood pressure, temperature, oxygen levels, you know. So, I will need to touch you.” Harry flinched. “I will only touch your arm, your forehead and your hand. Nothing invasive, and only if you allow it. Now, I can’t tell you we won’t need to give you an IV or look at your injuries later, because we are probably going to have to do that as well.” 

Harry tensed and Niall hoped he wouldn’t bolt, but the nurse just smiled gently. “Your Niall worked very hard to get you here, love. He needs to know you’re okay.” Harry glanced over at Niall, hovering in concern. “We’ll work up to the invasive stuff, all right? For now, you just hold your young man’s hand while I get those stats, yeah? He’ll be here with you every moment.”

“Now, Myrna,” another nurse piped up. “We can’t have someone who isn’t a family member in here while we—”

“Every. Bloody. Moment. Yeah, love?” Niall could have kissed her as she raised an eyebrow and glared at the woman out of the corner of her eye. The nurse hmphed for a moment, then abruptly left the room. “Now, love, that was Nurse Nichols.” She leaned closer in an aside that wasn’t really hidden from anyone. “She’s a bit young and still ultra-focused on dotting those i’s and crossing those t’s. I’m old and set in my ways, and the first thing I learned was a proper bedside manner. So, I’ll keep her in line and you just let me know if you feel uncomfortable at any time, all right?”

Harry peeked up and met her kind eyes for a brief second before nodding. She returned a satisfied nod and turned to the rest of the room. “Well? He’s clearly under control now. None of you are needed anymore. I’m sure you have work to do. Scat!” 

One by one, the others filed out of the room. The male nurse who’d brought Niall in was the last to leave. He paused in the doorway. “You good then, Myrna?”

She smiled at him. “I have the lovely Niall to help me and Harry. We’re all good.” He nodded, one last hesitant look at Harry, before shutting the door behind himself. “Now then,” Myrna turned back to the boys. “Let’s get started.” She was as good as her word, warning Harry in advance of the times she had to touch him and making those touches last only as long as was medically necessary. 

Niall’s back began to uncoil from the tensioned knot it had become the second he laid eyes on that damn video. Harry was no longer in a ball, even though he was clearly uncomfortable with anyone’s touch but Niall’s. Niall wondered how they were going to make it through the next however long it took to do the actual exam.

Finally, Myrna could no longer just putter, and she stood at the side of the bed. “All right, love. Now comes the hard part. I have a feeling about what is going on right now, but you have to inform the doctor, because he will be doing your exam. That means, you need to tell him everything that happened to you.” She held his eyes. “Everything, love. I’m going to get the doctor, now. You’ll have a minute or so to prepare yourself.”

“Are…are you coming back in with him?” Niall hastened to ask before the door shut. 

Myrna smiled kindly. “If you would like me here, I will be here, love.” Niall nodded, and after a moment, Harry nodded as well, though he didn’t lift his eyes from his lap. They spent the following minutes in silence, holding tightly to each other’s hands until the door opened again and a tall, middle-aged man carrying a clipboard swept in. Myrna shut the door behind them and took up a place not too far from Niall.

The doctor didn’t introduce himself, didn’t even greet them in any way, and Niall felt something tight roiling up in his belly. “All right, young man,” the doctor intoned. “I can see some bruising on your face, but I’m to understand that you’ve a few more injuries. Where are you hurt?”

Harry, too, seemed to shrink in on himself. He couldn’t look at the doctor. He couldn’t make a sound. He opened up his mouth and all that came out was a small gasp of air. His fingers tightened painfully on Niall’s, and panicked wide eyes blinked helplessly. Niall lifted their twined hands up to his mouth to give it a small kiss.

“He was punched in the face more than once,” he offered. The doctor didn’t look impressed with Niall answering rather than Harry, but Niall continued anyway. He was damned if he would make Harry relive that nightmare verbally when he could answer the questions just as well. “He was punched in the chest and gut. They kicked him a few times and threw him to the ground. He was held down. He has a knife cut on his left hip. And…and he was…he was r-raped twice.”

A low moan came out of Harry’s throat just before he smashed his face into Niall’s neck. Hot tears dripped off of his chin and soaked into Niall’s shirt.

The doctor pursed his lips. “That’s very…specific.” His eyes narrowed. “And how do you come about so much _specific_ information?”

Niall frowned. “I seen it, didn’t I?”

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “You saw the attack? And you did…?” As his voice trailed off, Niall saw red.

“You saying you think I would have just stood there and let them hurt him if I could have stopped it? Or are you saying you think I was a _part_ of it?”

“I’m saying that it’s simply interesting that you apparently _saw_ this entire incident, yet you don’t look as though you were… _involved_.” Niall opened his mouth, though he honestly had no idea what was about to fly out of it, but he was cut off. 

“Doctor! That is enough!” Myrna snapped. The doctor frowned and attempted to speak, but Myrna held up her hand. “No,” she glared daggers. “You are done. Out. Out of this bloody room and be quite warned that I will be reporting you!”

The doctor gave a half-laugh. “You’re a nurse. I’m a—”

“You’re a right pompous arse, is what you are. And I’ve never seen anyone so unprofessional in all my days as a nurse!” She seemed to be building up quite the head of steam when the door cracked open and the male nurse from before appeared in the doorway.

“You all right, Myrna?” he asked, giving a wary glance about the room.

“No, I am not bloody all right!” she spat. “Get this man out of this room right now!”

The male nurse stepped in to stand beside Myrna and quirked an eyebrow. “I believe the lady asked you to leave,” he said.

The doctor’s mouth dropped open and his confusion was evident. “This is ridiculous!” he said, flustered and red. “I’ll have your jobs, both of you!” He whirled on his foot and stormed out, clipboard clattering against the door frame. The male nurse looked cautiously between the infuriated Myrna, the incensed Niall and the bewildered Harry.

“What can I do?” he asked quietly.

Myrna took a deep breath, forced a smile and patted him on the cheek. “Please find me another doctor, love. A female one, if you can. And make it quick. These lovely lads shouldn’t have to wait on proper help.” He nodded and exited quickly.

She turned to eye Niall, and her face fell. Niall had lost the anger and his eyes were filled with tears of disbelief as he held an almost balled up Harry in his arms. “I would never hurt him,” he whispered.

“Oh, love, I know that. I can see that. I am so very sorry that just happened. Harry, love, please allow me to apologize. That…that was so very wrong.”

Harry turned his face so that she could see one watery green eye. “It was on video,” he choked out. “He had to watch it on a video to find me.”

Niall looked like he would have smacked his own head had his arms not been around Harry. “Nurse Myrna, in my back pocket is my phone. If you could get it out, I can…I can pull the vid up for you and the doctor. Then you could see what happened and Harry won’t have to talk about it.” Myrna nodded and carefully pulled the phone out, holding it out as Niall unwound one hand from the octopus hold Harry had on him. She held it steady as he entered the passcode and queued up the vid.

“Please…” he whispered. “Please don’t let anyone else see or hear. Harry is…well, we all are…we’re in a band. There are loads of fans that are always hiding out in weird places. Please don’t let this get out.”

“I know who you are, pet,” Myrna smiled. “I may have fangirled myself over the Beatles, but I have a granddaughter or two your age. I find I quite enjoy your music as well.” She stepped out of the room, phone clutched against her chest to shield it.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Harry’s shoulders started shaking. Niall gave up all pretense and just climbed onto the bed with him, wrapping his whole body nearly around Harry’s slighter one. “It’ll be alright, Hazza,” he whispered. “She’ll protect it. No one will see it.”

“Don’t leave me,” Harry choked out, the tears evident in his voice.

“I will _never_ leave you, Haz.” He pressed kisses to the back of Harry’s neck. “You are not alone. We are all here for you. We love you. So much. We’ll protect you. Never gonna let you wee without me again, for sure.” He was rewarded with a watery, gasping laugh, and they sat curled together for nearly half an hour.

The door opened again and a female doctor, long blonde hair and a sweet smile on her face, entered with Myrna right behind her. Niall could tell they’d watched the video as Myrna’s eyes were newly red, but she had a kind smile as well.

“Hello, lads,” the doctor said. “I’m Dr. Carrie. Myrna told me you were in good hands with Niall, Harry. I see that she was right. Niall, I’m certainly not going to ask you to leave, or even let go of Harry, but I’m going to need that whole bed for him in just a moment.”

Niall nodded and climbed back down, gently shushing Harry’s whimpered protests.

“Thank you, Niall.” She stepped up carefully to the side of the bed, hands in plain sight, and a gentle tone in her voice. “Now, Harry. Here is what I’m hoping to do. I’d like to get that wound on your hip washed off and see if it needs sutures. I can see you have some pain in your mouth. I’m guessing you might have a cut tongue or side of your cheek that I need to take care of. I’d like to get some ice on your cheek and eye as well.” She paused and checked to see that Harry was tracking her and understanding her.

“I’m also going to want to press on your stomach and chest to see if you have any internal injuries from the blows. Once all of the external band-aiding is done, we’ll get to the part I know you’d just rather forget about.” She waited again as Harry tensed up and Niall rubbed a soothing hand over his back. “We’ll worry about that when the time comes. I can promise you, Harry. I won’t touch you without your say so. And I’ll be as quick as I can while being as thorough as needed.”

She took a step back and let Myrna step forward. “To begin with, I’m going to ask that you change into this gown so that I can reach all of your injuries. If you’d like to do it alone, that’s fine. If you’d like Niall to help you, that’s wonderful as well. Can you do that for us, Harry?”

Harry gave a short nod, but when the gown was held out to him, he pushed it toward Niall. “Oh, it’s gonna be like that, is it?” Niall forced a chipper smile as he took the clothing. “Just like trying to get you changed out of your kit after a night at the pub, eh?”

The corner of Harry’s lip moved a minute fraction, enough that it seemed to satisfy the ladies, and they took their leave, telling Niall to poke his head out when they were ready. Niall had never been so gentle, even with his nephew Theo, as he was now with Harry. Harry lifted an arm or leg and leaned when asked, and when Niall came back up after pulling Harry’s trousers off, he found Harry covering his groin with both hands.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, almost soundlessly.

“Hazza, you have nothing to be sorry about. Not then, not now, not ever.” He rolled the gown up and lifted it over Harry’s head. “I love you, Haz. I’m grateful that you trust me enough to let me help you.”

Harry lifted his arms to put them in the gown. “If this is…too much,” he insisted quietly, “You don’t have to stay. She didn’t say, but…I know what they have to do, where they have to look. I can’t…I can’t ask you to…to stay through that.”

“Harry Edward Styles, shut yer face.” Niall leaned in to tie the gown at the base of Harry’s neck. “I’m not leaving, ya bloody bastard. So, stop trying ta make me go.” He looked Harry in the eye, staring him down until he could tell he’d made his point. “Now. If you’re done with that ridiculous shite, I’m gonna let the ladies know you’re ready, yeah?”

Harry gave a weak smile, and it broke Niall’s heart into more pieces to see it delivered with a single, shining tear trailing down his cheek. He hotfooted it to the door and beckoned them in before rushing back to Harry’s side. 

Dr. Carrie was gentle and patient as she worked on Harry. Her voice was low and soothing, and she announced everything she did before she touched him. Her quick efficiency meant that Harry’s other wounds were sewn up, bandaged, iced and cleaned sooner than they thought. Then it was time for the elephant in the room.

“All right, now, Harry,” she said quietly. “Your bodyguard, Paul, said the police are on their way to take statements.” Harry tensed up again. “I think showing them that video will take care of most of the questions, so you won’t need to go back over every tiny detail. But they are going to need forensic evidence to prosecute.”

Harry began shaking his head almost frantically. “I don’t want to…I just want to forget it…I don’t want them to…”

“I understand, Harry.” Carrie placed her hand near, but not on him. “And that’s up to you, in the end. You are an adult. No one can force you to file any charges. But I want you to know that you are able to give an anonymous statement. Either way, it’s up to you. However, the forensic piece means I’d need to do a few more swabs, use a different instrument, bag evidence. That kind of thing. I need to know how you want me to proceed, Harry.”

Harry threw his arm over his face, but Niall could see the tears leaking down past his ears. He squeezed Harry’s hand and Harry’s arm flew off of his face. Glass green, pain-filled eyes met his. “Niall. You tell me what to do,” he begged hoarsely. “I can’t…I don’t know. Please, just tell me what to do.”

Niall could feel his own tears making their way in a hot stream down his face. “Hazza, love,” he answered quietly. “I know this is the shittiest thing in the world. Putting you through more pain, more embarrassment, more…touching, is the last thing I want to do. But I think you need to do this.”

Harry’s face crumpled, but his gaze remained on Niall. Niall felt completely gutted at the trust Harry was showing in him.

“Fuck, Haz,” he managed to choke out past the lump in his throat. “I know. God, I know and I feel like a right fucking cunt for asking you to do it. I know you want to forget. But later, you may change your mind and then it will be too late. So, I’m gonna be that right fucking cunt. I’m gonna ask you to do this. If you can’t do this for you, right now…do it for me.”

A sob escaped Harry’s chest that sounded like it came from the bottom of his soul and his whole body shook as he lay back quietly. He nodded and closed his eyes, and Niall took that moment to slam his other hand over his own mouth so Harry wouldn’t hear the answering sob from his own chest. He glanced over at the women through a watery haze and saw them looking at him with soft, pained smiles. Carrie nodded her support, and Myrna mouthed ‘thank you’. Then they got to work.

Two hours later, and Niall was regretting opening his big fucking mouth. Harry had taken his words to heart, and was laying motionlessly on the table. Every time something pinched, or hurt, he would suck in a breath, look at Niall and visibly force himself back into stillness.

It was one of the worst feelings Niall had ever had, that Harry was subjecting himself to this because Niall asked him to. It wasn’t quite as horrific as knowing those injuries had come about because Harry was preventing them from being visited on Niall, but it came a close second. 

Harry had been swabbed on nearly every bit of his skin. His pubic hair was combed through, a special lamp was used to see fluids not visible to the human eye. A speculum was inserted and a camera followed in the most self-loathing moment of Niall’s existence to date. And the pictures. Oh, there were so many pictures. They were used to a million cameras in their faces every day but the difference between those pictures and these were that of night and day.

Finally, Carrie was done. She gently tugged the gown back down over Harry’s exposed body and stepped in front of the instrument tray. “Myrna is going to get you some medications, Harry. Some pain meds, an antibiotic and some meds for STIs. You’ll need another blood test in a few weeks, but that’s in the future. Right now, I want you to just rest here for a bit, take your meds, and we’ll get you some clothes to wear back home.”

Her expression softened from the professional concern she’d had for the last two hours. “You did very well, Harry dear. Myrna and I are proud of you, and I know your Niall is proud of you, as well. I’m so very sorry this happened to you, Harry. I wish you nothing but happiness from this moment forward, all right?”

Harry held a shaking hand out to her and, as she grasped it, Niall could see for the first time the tears in her eyes. She squeezed his hand and took her leave, pushing the instrument tray ahead of her and shutting the door behind her.

Myrna smiled at them. “You were both very brave, lads,” she agreed. “I’ll bring those clothes to you now, so you can get dressed. After that, I’ll bring your dose of meds and bottle up some more to take home with you. I’ll get your discharge papers together and you’ll be free to go. You can let those friends of yours in the waiting room know you’ll be out soon. I’m sure they’ve been pacing a right bit.”

She left quietly and the boys just listened to the random sounds of the hospital around them. A few moments later, she bustled back in to drop the clothes off, then she was on her way again. Niall grabbed for the clothes to have something to do with his hands that wasn’t begging Harry for forgiveness.

“Looks like you get a fashionable jumper and some jogging bottoms, Haz,” he announced, flicking the clothing out of their folds. “Pretty sure you can rock them, though. Never seen you in an outfit you couldn’t.” He puttered about, laying them out and smoothing them flat until he had nothing else to do but make eye contact with a silent Harry.

“It’s okay, Nialler,” Harry said softly. “I hated every second of it, but I know it had to be done. Thank you for making sure it did. And for making sure I made it through.”

Niall’s face scrunched into a pained mess. “Haz…I—”

“I mean it, Niall. Thank you for being here for me. I know…I know it’s not what you signed on to do when we became friends. It’s pretty fucking out there, to be honest. But I want you to know that I appreciate you, and all that you’re doing for me. I don’t know if I could have—”

Niall gave up on the damn clothes and threw himself into Harry’s arms. “You could have, Haz. You could. You’re brave and wonderful, and you could have done it all by yourself. But I’m glad you let me in. I’m glad I could help, even a little. And I’m so sorry.” 

“Yeah, you and me, both,” Harry gave a hoarse chuckle. “Now help me get into this lovely outfit so we can make sure Louis hasn’t removed anyone’s spleen out there in the waiting room.”

Niall moved to help Harry get his clothes on. Now that the end was in sight, Harry was much more motivated than before and they got him dressed in just a few minutes. Niall texted Louis that they would be out in a few, and they settled down to wait quietly for Myrna to return with Harry’s meds and discharge papers. Harry signed with a shaking hand, but before Myrna could disappear from the room again, he tentatively reached out to hug her.

Her eyes teared up and she held him gently. “You’re a good lad, Harry Styles,” she murmured. “You have people who love you dearly. Let them. Let them take care of you for a while. This may seem like a mountain in front of you, right now, but time will pass. It won’t go away, but it will fade.”

Harry pulled away slowly. “Thank you, Myrna,” he whispered. “For helping me to still feel like a person.”

Myrna cupped his cheek and smiled. “You are most welcome, lovely lad.” She turned her smile on the other boy in the room. “Now, Niall. Take your young man out of this place. And take those anxious boys in the waiting room with you. That small one was getting quite loud about when he could see his friends again.”

Niall nodded. “Thank you, Myrna.” Then he wrapped his arm around Harry’s waist to lead him out the door. 

Myrna was right. They could hear Louis before they could see him. “Niall said just a few minutes!” came a whining growl. “What’s taking so long?” When they popped around the corner, Louis was pacing back and forth, glaring at his phone. Liam caught sight of them first and jumped to his feet. Zayn quickly followed, and they were mid run by the time Louis even noticed they were stood. 

The five boys collided in the middle of the waiting room, arms akimbo and tears flowing. They held onto each other tightly, huddled around Harry. Paul let the boys cuddle for a bit, then put his hands onto Liam and Zayn’s shoulders. “Lads, the paps have started to arrive. We need to get out of here.” 

As the bandmates pulled apart slowly, Harry finally noticed the camera flashes from outside the window. His stomach sank. “When did they get here?” he asked.

“Someone must have noticed the three of us sitting here,” Zayn said quietly. “They started showing up about 30 minutes ago. Twitter has us tagged here, so it’s only a matter of time before everyone is here and the rumors start flying.”

Harry nodded and took a deep breath. “Okay, so what now?”

“The police have agreed to meet us at a new hotel,” Paul said. “Because, like fuck are we taking you back to that one. We have a car, big enough for everyone, waiting in the loading zone. Some more of my crew have shown up. We’ll get you boys to the car, then they’ll try to lose the paps while you get to the hotel.” He dropped a hand on Harry’s shoulder. 

“The staff know we’re coming. They’ll have you taken to your rooms with no fuss. The police will already be there. You give your statements and that’s that. Management has been informed and they’ll be contacting you tomorrow with a decision on how they want to handle this.”

Harry sucked in a shuddering breath that had Niall wrapping his arms around him. “You won’t be alone, Haz. Not now, not with the police, not all night. Probably never in your life again, if I have any say.”

Harry gave a weak smile that was answered by the rest of the boys. “Okay,” he said shakily. “Let’s do this.”

Even with the bodyguards on hand, surrounding the whole group of them, the boys each took up position on one of Harry’s sides. Paul bulldozed his way through the onlookers, mostly paps, though there were several dozen fans screaming their names as well, and Harry hated that he was afraid to even look up from his feet. He just moved along however the others directed him and tried not to burst into tears again.

The sounds cut off as the door to their car shut behind them, and Harry felt it in his bones like his strings were cut. He weakly slumped over into Niall’s lap and drew his legs up, wishing he could just crawl back into Niall’s embrace like at the hospital. Thankfully, he felt Niall’s arms close around him once again. Surprisingly, beside him, Louis tucked Harry’s legs up into his lap and wrapped his arms around them. Held so securely in the arms of his friends, he finally loosened up enough to breathe normally.

No one moved for the entire ride to the new hotel. They were ushered out of the car by Paul’s crew, and into the hotel fast enough that the random onlooker would never have been able to recognize them. A staff member quietly handed them their room keys and directed them to the room where the police waited. The ride up the elevator was also made in silence, as was the walk to the hotel room.

Though they were provided three rooms between the five of them, none of the boys split off. They all followed Harry and Niall into their assigned room to meet with the police, and they all piled on and around Harry as he sat facing the two plain clothed officers.

“Thank you for speaking with us tonight, gentlemen,” the first said. “My name is Detective Constable Arnes. My partner is Detective Constable Gable. May I have your names?” The boys all popped off with their names, Harry holding out until last, still unable to make eye contact with the two men in front of them.

“So, your bodyguard Paul Higgins has provided us with your phone, Mr. Styles. We have a copy of the video, and we have the number your attacker dialed afterward. We would like to keep the phone for fingerprinting purposes, and depending on what we find, it may be a while before we are able to get it back to you.”

“Keep it,” Harry said roughly. “I’ll get a new one. I don’t ever want to see that one again.”

The Detectives exchanged an unreadable look. “Of course, Mr. Styles. Mr. Higgins had suggested you might feel that way. He has made arrangements to retrieve all of your contacts for you. You have my word that this phone and its contents will be treated with the utmost respect and safety. We realize that it is a special concern for you as you are in the entertainment industry. We guarantee you, sir, that should any leaks occur, they will not be from our department, and we will do whatever we can to provide assistance in quashing them.”

“Thank you,” Harry nodded.

“As we have the video, your assistance at this point is not as urgent. We do need to ask you what occurred before filming began, but the rest of our questions can be answered by studying the video. Are you ready to answer the short list of questions we have?” Harry nodded, his hands twitching in his lap. Niall reached over and grasped one, Louis the other. Liam and Zayn leaned in against his legs where they were sat in front of him on the floor.

“All right, Mr. Styles. Let’s begin.”

The questioning didn’t take very long. Harry gave the best descriptions he could of their faces before the masks came out. He shared how they worked in tandem. How they clearly had planned it out beforehand to have the perfect place to take him: quiet, uninhabited and where his screams wouldn’t be noticed.

He felt so ashamed as he spoke, that he hadn’t been stronger, braver. That he’d so willingly gone along with them. That he’d contributed to his own victimization. When the questions turned from Harry to the other boys, Harry let himself shut down. He closed his eyes and sat limply, waiting for it to be over. 

In no time, the Detectives were thanking them for their help and taking their leave. Paul ushered them out and let the boys know he’d have dinner ordered for them. He assured them that there would be security posted at each bedroom door, and the boys weren’t to leave their rooms. 

When the door finally shut behind him, the five boys just sat in silence. Zayn rested his head on Harry’s knee and Liam absently played with the hem of Harry’s joggers. Niall endlessly stroked his fingers over Harry’s hand and Louis wrapped both his hands around Harry’s one. Perhaps 15 minutes went by before Harry mustered the courage to speak. He took a deep breath. 

“I’m…I’m so sorry, lads,” he said quietly, in his slow drawl. “I hate that you saw…that. What they did. I’m so very sorry you had to watch it all to find me. I’m sorry that you were the ones _to_ find me. I…I hate that this is going to fuck everything up. And…and I hope it won’t make things too…weird between us.”

“This is not going to fuck everything up,” Louis said firmly, from his place at Harry’s side. 

“Louis,” Harry sighs. “There were paps everywhere. The chances that this won’t get leaked somehow are pretty much next to none.”

“Management will—” Liam offered, but Zayn’s snort cuts him off.

“Management will spin this in whatever way makes the product look best, not in any way that’s going to make Harry feel better.” 

Liam shrugged sadly.

“Whatever Management tries to do, Harry’s right. This will eventually come out,” Louis said wearily.

Harry flinched. “I know. I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I can…I can q-quit the band, maybe?” he tentatively offered. “It’ll be just on me, then. Not on One Direction.”

“What? No fucking way!” Niall snarled. “You are not quitting the band. It’s all of us or none of us, and it’s gonna stay that way.”

“Niall,” Harry smiled sadly. “I can’t be the reason One Direction fails. That would kill me for sure.”

“We’re not gonna fail, Harry,” Niall insisted. “This will blow up, we’ll fight through it, then it will end when the next big juicy rumor comes ‘round. It won’t always be the first thing on everyone’s mind.”

“But what if it is?” Harry tried to frown at Niall, but he knew at this point he was coming off more as a weepy puppy. “What if, when people talk about One Direction, it won’t be those five lads from X Factor who made it big. It’ll be that band where the one lad was raped.” Harry shook his head. “I’m not stupid enough to think this won’t get out, or that it won’t be the sensational story of the year.”

“It will be,” Louis agreed, and Harry squeezed his eyes shut momentarily. But they flew open a second later as Louis released his grip on Harry’s hand only to take a firm grip on his chin instead, pulling Harry’s eyes to his. “It will get out. It will be awful,” he agreed. “The paps are gonna try to rake you through the mud. It’s what they do. They’ll harass you. They’ll harass us. Individually, trying to get one of us to break and tell them the real story. But we are not individuals. Not in this. Nor are we five boys randomly shoved together and told to make the best of it. Not anymore. 

“We are fucking family. We stand together. We protect each other. We love each other. We are not teenagers to be bullied anymore, by paps or by Management. We are One Direction, and we are above those fuckers. You tell us what you want to do, Harry. And we will do it. Together. You’re not fucking leaving us. And we’re not fucking abandoning you.”

Harry’s face crumpled and he fell forward into Louis’ chest, a place he hadn’t been in years. Louis’ arms came around him and squeezed him tightly, just as familiarly as they had those years before…before the whole Larry mess and the divide that was forced between them. Niall’s arms came around him from behind and Liam and Zayn climbed up on laps to join in.

Quiet tears fell for long minutes before Louis began bitching. “Leeyum, your knee is digging into my bollocks, get yer fat arse off of me before I punch you.” Harry snorted in laughter and the rest followed, giggling like they were those 16, 17-year-old lads again. Soon, Louis chucked Liam arse first into the floor and Zayn climbed down to pick him back up.

“All right, fuckers,” Niall wiped his arm across his eyes. “I think Harry needs to get showered and put on some of his own clothes. He can have a bite to eat, then he needs to get some sleep. So, get the fuck out, all of you.” The other three slowly made their way to the door and Niall tugged Harry up off of the couch toward the bathroom.

Harry looked longingly at the bathtub. “I could do with a soak,” he suggested.

“Not a chance, Harry Styles,” Niall frowned. “You just got 11 stitches in your hip. As a matter of fact, I’m gonna send one of Paul’s guys downstairs for some cling wrap and tape. You brush your teeth while I’m asking, then I’ll bring some comfy clothes in. We’ll tape you up, and get you showered. By then, dinner should be here.”

Harry sighed, but nodded, heading to the sink. Niall quickly sent one of the guys on the door off and went to root through Harry’s bags for the softest, most worn joggers and jumper he could find. By the time he was satisfied with the squishiness of the socks, the medical supplies had arrived. He stepped back in the bathroom and dropped the clothes on the toilet as Harry finished spitting out bloody toothpaste.

Niall winced. “I should have asked for ice for your tongue. I’ll have someone bring it up with supper.”

Harry just shrugged and turned to face Niall. “It’s fine.” The stood in silence for long moments before Niall waved the cling wrap box in his hand. Harry flinched a tiny bit, then sighed again. He carefully pulled off his shirt and only hesitated a second longer before dropping his joggers. “I can do it,” he said quietly.

Niall sat on the side of the tub and looked up at Harry through his lashes. “I know you can,” he agreed. “But I don’t want you to. Now, come here.” Harry sidled up into Niall’s space, allowing the other boy to smooth a bit of the cling wrap against the cut. When all four sides were plastered down with the medical tape, Niall tossed the box onto the counter and leaned in to start the shower.

He poked his hand under and, when finally satisfied with the temperature, he held the door open for Harry to step through. Niall grabbed Harry’s toiletry bag and fished out his shampoo, bodywash and loofah. He cracked the door again to hand them to Harry, but Harry was just stood under the shower, head bowed, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Niall made a decision and set the bag down. He stripped his own clothes off and stepped in behind Harry, snagging the bag on the way. Harry flinched hard when Niall touched his shoulder, but once he saw Niall, he threw his arms around him. They stood under the spray, wrapped around each other, ignoring each other’s nakedness for the necessity of comfort.

When Harry could breathe again, he pulled away and flushed, realizing how awkward it could have been. Not just after the fucked-up night they’d had, but because not too long ago, Harry would have given nearly anything to be in that position at any other time. And that just wasn’t something ‘friends’ felt for each other. But Niall never made anything awkward. Anything Harry ever needed, Niall provided. Free of charge and free of judgement. Niall’s love was like the sun, always warm, always there. And Harry felt so guilty for how dependent he was on that fact. He felt like he was using Niall, no matter what Niall had to say about it.

But, Niall did as Niall wanted. No one had ever made the boy do what he didn’t want to do, whether it was to stop cussing, or to go on a diet. Or like now, as Niall popped open the shampoo bottle and poured a handful out. He turned Harry away from the water and scrubbed soap covered hands through the long locks, getting every strand and massaging Harry’s scalp. And Harry let him. He was in no place to deny the gentle reassuring touch of his best friend.

Once foamed up, Niall tilted Harry’s head back and rinsed every bubble out. Then, he picked up the loofah and bodywash. Harry frowned and reached out to take the scrubber, but Niall just jerked it out of the way and narrowed his eyes. With another sigh, Harry let his arms drop and allowed Niall to scrub every inch of his body clean again.

And if tears slipped out in the warm water, only Harry had to know. Because with every stroke of Niall’s hands, Harry felt like he was reclaimed. Niall’s hands washed away the ghostly feel of angry hands on his body. Niall’s hands took back the pain, the violation. In return, he offered gentle love. He offered comfort. The soap itself was removing the blood and semen, but it was Niall’s hands that were removing the taint of others; bringing him back from the nightmarish places he’d been that night.

When Harry was suds free, Niall turned off the shower and reached out to tug towels from off of the rack. He patted Harry’s body dry, rolled up Harry’s hair in a turban and plucked the cling wrap off of his skin. He carefully helped Harry into the new clothes and sat him on the toilet lid while he towel-dried his hair. Only then did he put his own clothes back on, giving his own head a quick towel dry. He picked up Harry’s brush and went to work on smoothing out the tangles in the long locks. 

He could hear sounds out in the bedroom and figured their dinner must have been delivered, so he gave a last quick brush through and pulled Harry up to his feet. To his surprise, when they stepped out into the bedroom, it wasn’t the waitstaff with their dinner. Their dinner had been delivered, yes, but so had three other trays. The noise was from three other bodies. Loud ones. Liam, Louis and Zayn stood in the center of the room arguing over how to place the three mattresses they’d drug in.

“What are you doing?” Niall demanded.

They looked up guiltily. “Uh, we thought we’d crash in here, tonight?” Zayn replied. “Like…like when we were in X Factor and all shared?”

“We brought extra pillows,” Liam offered, a hopeful smile on his face. Harry responded with a tiny smile, and that settled it for Niall. 

“All right,” Niall rolled his eyes, the curl of his lips belying his irritation. “But you’re gonna have to move that side table over behind the couch. Otherwise, someone will trip over it when they get up to piss tonight.” 

Liam and Zayn jumped to reorganize while Louis just took a long look at Niall and Harry. Niall knew he wasn’t missing the wet hair and damp clothes on Niall that said, plain as day, he’d showered with Harry. But Louis just gave a nod and a tight smile before joining in on the blanket dispersal. Niall poked his head out the door to ask for ice and let Paul’s men know they’d only need the one room, then he returned to Harry’s side.

They ate off of their laps, crisscross-applesauce, while they pulled a movie up on the TV. Harry lasted most of the way through, but eventually faded out. He listed to the side and ended up half in Niall’s lap for the second time that day. Niall scooted down and pulled Harry over onto his chest. When Liam noticed, he just shut the TV down and helped Niall out by putting a pillow under his head. 

Liam curled up next to Niall while Louis chose to blanket Harry on the other side. Zayn plastered himself to Louis’ back. Once settled, they found themselves suddenly wide awake in the darkened room, with all eyes locked on Harry’s shadowy body. 

“I don’t know how to fix him,” Niall whispered out into the dark.

“You can’t fix him, babe,” Zayn answered quietly. “You can only love him.”

“I do,” Niall said a long moment later. “I’m sorry if it fucks up the band, but I do. I don’t know how not to,” he added helplessly.

“We know, dumbass,” Louis poked Niall in the side of the head. “We’ve known since X Factor. Why do you think we give you so much shit?”

“Do…do you think he knows? Do you think it hurts him?” Niall asked worriedly.

Liam brushed a cheek against Niall’s hair. “I dunno if he knows. Our Harry is as oblivious as he is precious. But I don’t believe loving someone could ever hurt them. And we all know you’d die rather than see him hurt.”

Silence fills the room for long minutes. 

“I would have gone,” Niall finally choked out, tears clogging his throat. “If they’d have texted. Even if I’d known what would happen…I would have gone. Harry shouldn’t have…he didn’t deserve…Fuck! Harry is the most loving, giving, caring human I’ve ever known. That someone could do something like that to him…I would have gone.”

“You think he didn’t know that?” Louis breathed next to his ear. “Harry would do most anything for any one of us, Niall. But I don’t think they’ve made the line he wouldn’t cross for you. And you don’t get to dwell on that, or wallow miserably in it. You’ll fucking treat it like the gift it is…like _he’s_ the gift he is, and don’t you dare ever let him feel like it was for nothing.”

Breathing was the only sound again for a long while.

“I can’t say I’m sorry, Louis.” Niall said quietly. “I hate the hurt you both went through back then, but here on the other side of it…I can’t be sorry.”

Louis gave a tiny snort. “Fuck off, Neil. I burned that bridge a long time ago. There isn’t a day goes by that I don’t regret it, but I learned to let it go. I can’t lose him as a friend, too. But don’t you ever forget, I’ll straight up fucking murder you if you hurt him.”

Niall smiled into the darkness. “I love you, too, Lewis.”

_________________________________________________

The next day dawned, and it was a quietly unanimous decision to do absolutely nothing. They ordered up room service, played endless games of FIFA and watched carefully selected movies. Paul showed up halfway through the morning with a new phone for Harry, contacts and photos installed already. 

Harry was encouraged to ignore it and just be in the moment, but Niall found him in the bathroom during Zayn and Louis’ smoke break. He was huddled up against the bathtub, tears filling his eyes as he scrolled endlessly through Twitter seeing all the rumors that had sprung up overnight. Niall took his phone after that and gave it to Liam. 

 

Midafternoon, the call they’d been dreading came through. Management rang, and for the 10 minutes they were on the phone, the boys were not able to get a word in edgewise. “Gentlemen,” the chosen voice of Management began, “The board held an early morning meeting today and, given the situation, has decided to release a statement to the press regarding Mr. Styles’ altercation.” 

“Altercation?” Liam mouthed, frowning at Louis and Zayn. Harry’s head was bowed and Niall stared at the curls falling in front of Harry’s face rather than making eye contact with the other boys. 

“For the purposes of this statement, Mr. Styles was approached by a lone man, defining himself as an ‘angry boyfriend’. The Board believes this will likely resonate as plausible, since Mr. Styles has a known reputation as a womanizer. The conversation between the two men became heated, and Mr. Styles was struck several times. This will explain the bruising, which we are informed will be impossible to conceal completely. The man exited the scene quickly, and without identifying himself. Police are still on the lookout for the assailant.”

Zayn’s hands curled around his kneecaps so that he didn’t slap the phone off of the table. He could hear the quiet hitch in Liam’s breath and the angry muttering Louis was doing on the far side of the table. 

“In addition, as no significant damage has occurred, tomorrow’s concert will continue as planned. Members of One Direction are expected to attend the press junket in the morning, and be at the sound check on time. At no point should personal feelings or reactions supersede the suggestions of Management, and you gentlemen are expected to put on a show worthy of the One Direction hype. Have a good day, gentlemen.”

“No significant…Fuck you!” Louis bellowed, doing what Zayn had wanted to do earlier and slapping the phone into the floor. “This is bullshit! They can’t fucking just lie like that!” He kicked the table and sent it onto its side. Liam and Zayn stood up quickly and attempted to corral him before he took apart the rest of the room. “They can’t get away with this! No fucking way!”

One part of Niall wanted to help Louis out by destroying everything in his path. But another part held him still, told him to tamp down on his anger and wait to see what Harry would do. Sure enough, as the other three boys trampled over one another, Harry withdrew further, curling in on himself until Niall wondered if he’d gone boneless. Suddenly, Harry launched to his feet and quickly headed for the bathroom. Niall followed.

Harry didn’t bother to lock the door. He knew that Niall would follow, and would probably break the door down to get to him. He threw himself to his knees and proceeded to lose every bit of food he’d eaten in the last day. Even as dry heaves wracked his body, he felt wiry arms slip around his waist and gentle hands gather up his dangling hair to hold. 

When nothing else would come up and his gut was sore, he flushed the toilet and Niall freed an arm to wet a cloth. He carefully pulled Harry back around and wiped his face off. Tossing the cloth on the counter, he snagged a glass and filled it with cool water, pushing it into Harry’s hands. Harry swished and spit a couple of times, then just sat, sipping the rest of the water and looking more emotionally fragile than Niall had ever seen him.

When they eventually made their way back to the main room nearly 15 minutes later, they found a sullen Louis glaring angrily from the middle of the couch with the guilty looking pair of Liam and Zayn bookending him. “We’re sorry, Harry,” Zayn piped up when Niall and Harry sat on the loveseat opposite them. “We didn’t mean to get so…That was just…” he sighed. “Yeah, you already know what that was. We’re sorry. We’ll try to keep it under control and not make it worse for you.”

Harry gave a watery smile. “I know. I don’t blame you. It’s shit, and it’s not fair, but it’s really not anything I wasn’t expecting from them.”

“When we cool down a bit, we’re gonna call Simon,” Liam adds. “He may not be able to do anything, either, but I’ve gotta believe he’ll be on our side.” Harry nodded, but everyone knew he just did it to make Liam feel better. Which just made it all so much worse. 

They spent the rest of the day much the same as they had that morning and, when night fell again, it found all five of them curled up around each other in the center of the big mattress bed they’d made. They took comfort in the fact that at least they were together now, no matter what tomorrow held for them.

They grudgingly went their separate ways the next morning so they could get ready for the press rounds. Before they headed down to the cars, Louis pulled everyone together and they set up a list of questions that they would be handing out to the journalists of exactly what could not be asked. It included anything about the other night, Management’s press release, the hospital visit, the way Harry looked today or anything about who Harry may or may not have hooked up with.

Management had carefully labeled the seating for them, and the boys took great delight in passive-aggressively giving a fuck you to Management when they crumpled up the paper place holders and rearranged their seating to their own liking. Niall and Zayn claimed either side of Harry, with Liam on the front end to take charge of questions. Louis got the far end from the reporters so that he would need to go through all four boys before wringing the neck of the journalists that were bound to ignore the list.

Harry was very quiet, both before camera as well as on camera. Make up covered some of the injuries, but whoever Management had consulting for them was correct. Nothing could cover the entire amount of damage. Harry knew he was the focus of all the cameras, no matter who was answering questions at the time, and so he did his best to remain impassive and only reply when spoken to. It was the tensest and politely cold interview any of them had ever given.

Some reporters respected the list. Those were the ones the boys took note of and offered more than just the canned responses. They shared small anecdotes and larger smiles. Others went straight for the jugular. The first one to do so actually led with the offensive question of, “Whose girlfriend did you sleep with this time, Harry?” Zayn caught Louis by the waist as the fierce little man launched up out of his seat, ready to tear throats. That reporter was quickly led away and a 10-minute break implemented. 

Management jumped on the wagon immediately, demanding they throw away the list of ‘inappropriate’ questions, threatening contract breach. Their threats were very thinly veiled, and Harry quietly begged the others to just let it be. Reluctantly, Liam passed the paper down to Louis who promptly wadded it up into a ball and bounced it off of the Management representatives head. He sneered at the warning eyebrow and threw himself back into his seat. 

So, the boys moved on to quiet protest. The rest of the nosy reporters were given the silent treatment. All five boys just stared at the journalist in question until the silence became unbearable enough that the person either moved on to a new question, or in some cases, just stood up and called the interview over.

Harry was ready to crawl under something and just hide for the rest of the night by the time the sound check was finished. The whole day had been filled with sideways looks and curious whispered conversations that cutoff any time one of the boys entered into earshot. 

They headed back to the hotel for dinner, none of them wanting to brave the public disaster that was sure to happen at a restaurant. Even after dinner, it took all four boys wrapped around him in a huddle of affection before Harry would agree to move from the hotel back to the venue. As they left the cars, Paul and his crew provided a living wall in addition to the metal barriers set up by the security team. 

It was the first show One Direction had ever given where none of them stopped and took pictures or signed autographs. That pained Harry more than the physical injuries he had. The boys formed a protective phalanx around Harry, and he could see past their shoulders as the hopeful looks on the faces of the fans died when they hustled by without stopping. 

Not even a quarter of the way to the building, he just sighed and stopped dead in the middle of the walkway. Niall bumped into him from behind and the others moved a few steps past before they realized that Harry was not following. Harry briefly shut his eyes against the worried looks of his bandmates. He swallowed tightly, then pasted a bright smile on his bruised face and moved around the bodyguards. 

He touched hands and signed his name and even posed for pictures. Seeing Harry putting forth the extra effort, the other boys joined in, determined to keep it as normal as possible. Oddly enough, none of the fans demanded answers. They only cooed over his colors and asked if he felt well enough to sing tonight. It nearly brought him to tears when a fan asked if he’d rather not have her post the picture he took with her onto Instagram.

The tears were catching, apparently, because Lou sniffled and wiped her eyes the whole of styling Harry’s hair, even though she’d been the one to artfully arrange his locks to cover as much bruising as possible earlier at the press junket. When she was done, she just hugged him tightly and ran out of the room. As the boys geared up to go onstage, usually they did an all hands in. This time, they just held each other, quietly offering strength until the final countdown came to hit the stage. 

Harry put his whole heart into performing. Even though his body ached, his face felt like it was on fire, and he was pretty sure he mush-mouthed some of the lyrics after he bit his already swollen tongue, the fans didn’t seem to notice or care. 

The other lads continued on with their silent fuck you to Management, and ignored any previous choreography or any attempts made to get their attention and get them back into line. The four boys spent the beginning of the show stalking Harry around the stage. At no time were there less than two other lads within 10 feet. Harry tried to make up for it by moving them all around more often so that the fans on all sides could have a chance to be near their favorites.

He had just finished up the final note to _Happily_ , and was waving to the crowd, blowing kisses, when that closeness became important. Harry leaned over a front section of seating, huge smile on his face as he blew a kiss to a sign-holding fan, when several small objects flew over the fan’s head and pelted him in the chest. He startled a little, then laughed at his jumpiness. Bending down to pick the objects up, he readied a snarky grin but it froze on his face. 

Tubes of cherry Chapstick littered the stage in front of him. At least half a dozen. His hands started to shake and he knew the look on his face must be horrible, because all the girls in front of him stopped screaming his name and began calling it in concern. Harry glanced past the first row of fans to see a familiar face under blond hair smirking at him. His attacker wiggled his fingers obscenely at Harry and melted back into the crowd. Harry backpedaled so fast, he fell on his arse.

Louis, who was closest, initially barked out a laugh at Harry’s Bambi legs. However, when he saw the terror stricken look on Harry’s face, he snapped out Zayn’s name--the other hoverer at the moment--and they had Harry bracketed in protective arms in seconds. Harry’s mind had gone blank and he was back on that table, cold, naked, terrified and helpless. Tears began leaking down his face as he started to cry, staring into the crowd with vacant eyes. 

Zayn’s gaze was drawn to the items littering the floor in front of them as he helped Harry’s limply dead weight slide to the ground. When Harry was down, he leaned forward and picked one up, turning it to see the damning label. “Fucking hell!” he cursed, loud enough that his mic picked it up quite well and caused some of the screaming to die down. He held up the tube to Louis’ now furious gaze.

Louis jumped to his feet instantly. “Lights! Get the fucking lights up now!” he bellowed into the microphone. All screaming suddenly stopped, and a low rumble of confused and worried murmurs filled the arena. Moments later, the lights came up, illuminating the crowd. By then, Niall and Liam had made it across the stage, Niall nearly taking Harry out for the second time in two days with his slide. Liam planted himself in front of Harry’s face, both to stop Harry from staring out after whatever frightened him and to partially block the audience from watching Harry start to hyperventilate and sob.

Louis followed the disturbance of the crowd as the man made a wake through them, hurrying to get out. “There!" Louis shouted down to the guards. “Security, stop that piece of shite! Don’t let him get out!” Security bolted after the man but couldn’t make their way through the crowd as easily. Everyone wanted to turn and looky-loo over what could have brought the show to such a screeching halt.

Blond had made it over halfway to the exit, and there was no way security was going to catch up to him. He was sure he was free and clear, when a huge man stepped out into the aisle in front of him, pushed by a tiny little ginger haired girl. Blond sneered and lowered his shoulder to barrel through, but the fan just braced himself and released a totally unexpected uppercut that launched Blond back three rows and landed him flat on his arse. Cheers broke out, and then the security detail was on him. They lifted Blond up, his head lolling and blood trailing out of his mouth, and carried out the back doors. 

As soon as Louis saw the doors shut behind them, he turned back to Harry. The other lads had made a wall around Harry while Niall sat behind him, arms wrapped around and rocking him. Harry buried his face in Niall’s neck and clutched onto Liam and Zayn’s hands as his whole body shook with muffled sobs. Unfortunately, in their hurry to comfort Harry, the mics had been carelessly dropped to the ground, and Niall’s headset hadn’t even been taken off. Louis could hear Harry’s gasping cries and the lads’ soothing words coming through the speakers loud and clear.

“It’s alright, love. You’re safe. He’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Breathe, mate, you’re gonna pass out.”

“He’s cold as an ice cube. Shit, he’s going limp! What do we do?”

Louis stepped in and yanked Niall’s headset off, then kicked the mics away, dropping his own in the pile. He took a few steps away and snagged a bottled water before joining the others in front of Harry. He shoved Liam over a bit and cranked the lid off of the water. He winced even as he splashed Harry in the face with the water. Harry jerked, gasping, and sat back upright, his eyes blinking wide and confused.

“God, I’m so sorry, love,” he murmured. “I’m sorry…here, take a drink. Please, drink.”

Harry mindlessly took hold of the bottle Louis shoved in his face and tried to bring to his lips. He was shaking so badly that Niall grabbed the bottom of the bottle to steady it while Harry took several huge gulps. Harry slowly came back to himself, orienting himself on the concerned faces before him. After a moment, reality collapsed in on him and he realized just where he was. He was geared up to panic at the idea that he’d thrown a wobbly in front of thousands of people. Then he realized he was hidden behind a wall of protective bodies. He couldn’t even see past the chests of his bandmates. 

Liam absently chafed the hand he held, while Zayn played with the rings on the fingers he had a hold of. Harry could feel Niall’s comforting length pressed all along his back and felt his cheek pressed against his own, Niall’s breath coming steady and even in his ear. Louis lifted his hands and cupped Harry’s face. 

“Hazza? You with us again?” Harry nodded and Louis smiled in relief, tucking a wet strand of hair behind Harry’s ear. “Good. That’s good, love. You’re doing fine. You’re fine now.”

A small niggle of fear crept loose in Harry’s brain again. “Is he…did he get away?” Harry whispered.

“Fuck no,” Louis laughed. “Our fans are badassed motherfuckers. Some little girl shoved her Mike Tyson dad into the aisle and he clocked that piece of shit good. Sent him flying and security dragged him off. The police should be here soon enough.”

Harry nodded, closing his eyes. “I was so scared,” he breathed, his cheeks squinching up as he tried not to cry again.

Louis leaned in and planted a kiss on Harry’s forehead. “I know, love. But you’re okay. We’ve got you, and we’re not fucking letting you go.”

Fresh tears leaked down Harry’s cheeks. “I love you guys,” he choked out. “Thank you…thank you…”

Niall turned his face to press his lips on Harry’s temple. “We love you, too, Hazza.”

“No thanks needed, mate,” Liam brought Harry’s hand up to his cheek and pressed it against warm skin. “We love you. You belong to us.”

Zayn brought his hand linked with Harry’s up as well and dropped a small kiss on Harry’s knuckles, nodding. Louis nodded as well then sat back. “I’m gonna take care of this crowd, okay?” He snagged a mic as he got to his feet and stepped out to center stage.

“All right, everyone! If I could have your attention, please? I know tonight has been a bit weird, and I’m afraid it’s only going to get weirder. We are very sorry, but we’re not going to be able to finish the show tonight.” Harry frowned and made a grabby hand at the pile of mics sitting next to Liam. Liam hesitantly reached back and grabbed one handing it to Harry.

“I know what just happened is going to raise a lot of questions, but we are simply not prepared to answer them right now. We thank you so very much for coming, and for the support you’ve given us, both in the past, and especially tonight. Please—”

“Louis, no,” Harry interrupted into the mic, trying to get to his feet. Niall hooked arms under Harry’s and helped lift him, while Zayn steadied him with an arm wrapped around his waist.

Louis looked back with a frown. He pulled the mic away from his mouth and shook his head. “Hazza, you’re in fucking shock. Some serious shit just went down, love. It’s okay to take a step back.”

Harry took a stumbling step toward Louis, causing the other three boys to grab him and nearly carry him over to Louis’ side. “I can do this, Lou,” he said quietly, his own mic by his side. “This is who I am. Me, with you lads. Performing. Kicking arse. Being fabulous.” He smiled wanly, then frowned again. “I’m not that crying little bitch he made me. I can’t be. I won’t be.”

“I appreciate that you’re all about taking you back,” Louis chucked his fingers under Harry’s chin and stared into Harry’s eyes. “But we have half a fucking concert left to give and you’re wobbling around like a newborn faun.”

Harry smiled, the smile finally reaching his eyes. “Just give me a minute. I’ll eat a banana, take a drink of orange juice or something. Then we can go back out there and show everyone who we are…together. Yeah?”

Louis searched Harry’s eyes a moment longer, then sighed. “Fine. Niall, get the monkey his banana. Liam, go hold him up. Zayn, you and I will run offense on this clusterfuck.”

Liam and Niall moved a pleased Harry back to a raised bench and Niall rifled through one of his hidden snack caches before presenting Harry with a banana and another bottle of water. Zayn snagged his own mic and moved to join Louis at the forefront of the stage.

“Okay, we have yet another change in plans,” Louis grinned, waving vaguely at the huddled group of three behind him. “Harry would like to continue the concert for you.” Cheers went up, so deafening and so long, that Louis and Zayn just laughed and wrapped an arm around each other. It took quite some time for the hubbub to die down. 

“So, like I said, we still aren’t prepared to answer any questions right now. And we hope you respect us enough to just go with that. We’ll release a statement—an actual truthful one-- later,” he smirked tauntingly at the angry member of the Management team mouthing threats off stage at him. “And we’ll deal with the fallout like the consummate media trained professionals we are.” A wave of laughter rolled through the arena as Louis had hoped. 

“For tonight, we’d just like to be One Direction, performing for the fans that we dearly love.” The roar that followed was twice as loud, twice as long, and all of the lads had a sheen of tears in their eyes at the love projected toward them. It was nearly a physical presence. Louis waved them quiet again and smiled. 

“Thank you, all of you. You are the most amazing fans, and we love and appreciate you from the bottom of our hearts. There’s a couple of special fans right now, that I’d like to recognize, though. Could the young lady in the back and her imposing, highly muscled, large companion who stopped that fucker—”

“Louis,” Zayn elbowed him.

“Er…who stopped that very unpleasant man?” Louis raised his eyebrows quizzically and Zayn nodded, the corner of his mouth raising a bit. A roar of laughter rolled through the room and Louis shrugged like ‘What can you do?’ “Unpleasant man,” he continued, “please step out and make your way down here to the stage?”

Screams and applause broke out as the large man was once again shoved by the tiny girl out into the aisle. She bounded down, her face lit up like the sun, while the man hurried to catch up to her. Everyone he passed reached out to pat him on the back, give him a high five, or a knuckle bump. Louis leaned down and spoke to the security that was left by the stage, then stood back up.

When the two reached the stage, security ushered them up to stand next to Louis and Zayn. They took turns hugging the little girl, who’s excitement was almost making her float, and shook hands with what they could now see was a young auburn-haired man only a bit younger than their own age.

“What are you called, little lady?” Louis held the mic down to her lips. 

“I’m Maisy!” A cheer went up and the audience clapped.

“And who is this…large fellow with you?” Louis winked at the boy, who ducked his head and put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. 

“That’s my brother Brandon. He brought me to see you tonight. Gave me the tickets for my birthday, even!”

“What a wonderful brother!” Louis encouraged another round of hollering and clapping. “And are you a Directioner also, Brandon?”

Brandon flushed and looked down into Maisy’s bright eyes. He sighed. “The lads are gonna give me so much crap for this,” he muttered into the microphone. “Yeah, you’re alright. And Maisy loves you,” he added. “Has your posters up in her room all over the wall.”

Louis’ eyes began to twinkle. “So, Brandon. Is there a girlfriend in the picture for you?” Brandon looked like he might catch fire if he got any redder, and he worked his mouth silently.

“No, Brandon doesn’t have a girlfriend,” Maisy took over. She frowned. “The girls at his school are mean to him because he’s a ginger.”

Brandon actually slapped his hands over his face and half turned away from the audience. “God, Maisy, shut up,” he moaned quietly.

“Well, think that’s gonna change for you, soon, Brandon,” Louis laughed while Zayn clapped a hand on Brandon’s shoulder. “After all, you clearly love your little sister, bringing her to a One Direction concert. Girls eat that up with a spoon, y’know. Girls love big brothers who love their little sisters!”

A roar went up through the room.

“And, you just personally stopped a very bad man who hurt our Harry. I’d be very surprised if you made it out of the parking lot without a mob of young ladies of your own. What do you say, ladies? Does his being a ginger matter to you?” The scream of “no” nearly shook the walls. “Who here thinks they might find time for a handsome, fit young man who loves his little sister and saves beloved pop stars with those massive biceps of his?”

Brandon actually winced at the decibel level the screams reached, then gave a slow, shy smile, Maisy narrowed her eyes and snatched at Louis’ mic. “You have to make it past me, first,” she warned. Louis and Zayn busted up laughing, bending over and holding their stomachs.

At that point, Niall and Liam escorted a fed and hydrated Harry back up to the front of the stage. They shook hands with Brandon while Harry hugged the stuffing out of Maisy. He then stepped up to her brother, who held out his hand. Harry batted it away to Brandon’s surprise, and threw his arms around the larger boy’s neck. Brandon was bent over to accommodate him, and he patted him carefully on the back.

“Thank you,” Harry whispered in his ear. 

“Er…I didn’t really do anything. Just punched someone. My mum’s probably gonna ground me.”

Harry snorted laughter into his neck and Brandon gave a half chuckle. “Well, you’re my hero anyway,” Harry said. He pulled away from Brandon and leaned down to hug Maisy again. “How’d you two like to watch the rest of the concert from up here in front?”

Maisy swayed in shock, her eyes a bit glazed. “In front?” she whispered. Harry nodded and called a member of security up and pointed out a spot smack dab in the center of the stage, next to the stairs. The guard ushered the two siblings to their new location, Maisy vibrating with joy the whole way. Brandon was still lit up like a fire truck, and it didn’t look like it was going to go away anytime soon, as the girls he was standing near were fawning over him immediately.

The rest of the show passed in a haze for Harry. The adrenaline began to surge through him with the knowledge that Blond had been arrested, and the crowd ratcheted it up even further. He was surrounded by love from the fans and from his bandmates, and not even the skulking of Management alongside the stage could deter him from his high.

After the show, Louis and Zayn made sure their team got autographed memorabilia to Maisy and Brandon, and even followed them both back on Twitter—a fact that had Brandon blushing when the boys found out he already followed them. 

Once out of the hot lights and away from the intense, palpable love from the fans, Harry began to lapse back into nervousness. He wasn’t looking forward to the shitstorm that he knew was coming from Management. But then he watched Louis whisper something to Paul before they left the dressing rooms, and Paul and his security team whisked the five boys away before anyone Management got to them. 

Once upon a time, they might have headed off for an afterparty, rubbing elbows with the ‘right people’ and celebrating like the 20-somethings they were. Now? They just wanted to go back to the hotel to soak in the good feelings before the hard stuff came tomorrow.

Harry and Niall took turns in the bathroom in their room, while the other three took off for their own rooms. Unlike past shows, when a moment or two of alone time was needed to come down, this time both Harry and Niall left the door open for their showers. Both boys were unwilling to put even a small plank of wood between them. Once the showers were done, they dressed in soft, worn clothes and curled up on the couch to snuggle while waiting for the other three.

Liam and Louis and Zayn had their own agendas, though. They fully intended to shower, but they needed to take a small side trip first. They huddled up in Zayn’s room and placed a group call to Simon. 

“Lads! I’m pleased to hear from you,” their mentor boomed over the speakerphone. “I’ve been quite worried. Didn’t know if Harry was in a place to take a call from me, though.”

“Probably not,” Louis agreed. “He’s having a hard time, as you can imagine. Did you hear one of the bastards was arrested tonight? Fucker came to the show to creep on Harry!”

“I did actually get that call, not 30 minutes ago. I’m glad to hear he’s in custody. I have to wonder, how Management is going to try to sell this. I can’t imagine, from what they’ve said, that they were prepared to have the men caught so quickly.”

“That’s what we wanted to talk to you about, actually,” Louis eyed the other lads over the phone. “Management is wanting to play this off like Harry got the shit beat out of him for trying to get a leg up on the attacker’s bird. They’ve pretty much demanded he say it was just some pissed off boyfriend who attacked him. Harry's already given his side of the story to the police. I know Management is gonna be pissed off, but they can’t make us lie to the police, can they? I mean, they can’t say we broke contract by telling the truth to the law, right?”

“Of course not!” Simon growled. “I wasn’t aware of that. They conveniently left that part out when they called me. What has Harry said about that?”

“It made him sick, Simon,” Liam said softly. 

“I’m sorry, lads,” Simon replied sadly. “Tell you what, boys. I have a virtual army of lawyers at my beck and call. I’m going to send them your way to help you out. To help you make a decision on how to move forward from here. There have to be loopholes in the contract that protect you. They’ll help you find them.”

“To keep this out of the news, you mean?” Zayn said bitterly.

“Actually, given what I know about Harry Styles, he might launch this straight _into_ the news. He’s never been one to shy away from doing what he felt was the right thing,” Simon chuckled. 

“I…I don’t think we ever even thought of that,” Liam said hesitantly. “We just figured he’d want to keep it a secret.”

“He might, at that,” Simon agreed. “But you boys need to be prepared for the fallout if this gets out.”

“We’re not afraid of the fallout,” Louis said firmly. “We’re in this together. You put us together, and we may never know what really made you do it, but we’re grateful that you gave us each other.”

“I’m proud of you boys,” Simon said fondly. “Good luck to you. Give my best to Harry. And I’ll have that pack of lawyers to you as soon as I can roust everyone out of bed.”

Satisfied with the call, the three lads rushed through their showers and headed quickly back to Harry and Niall's room. Once there, they all piled on the couch and on top of each other, relaxing, checking social media, making small talk about the evening.

They had just begun to consider ordering in some room service when Harry's phone rang in Liam’s back pocket. Liam pulled it out with a blush, but still checked the caller id. Harry rolled his eyes and gave a small smile, but let him do it. Liam’s brows rose and he quickly handed the phone over to Harry with wide eyes. 

“It’s your mum,” Liam whispered.

Harry paled, but took the phone in a shaking hand to answer it. “Mum. Hi, how are you?” his voice quavered.

“Harry Edward Styles, what the hell is going on?” Anne’s voice could be heard over the tinny speaker, and Harry squeezed his eyes shut. “Why did I have to find out from a press release that you were attacked? Are you all right? Who did it? You’d better be filing charges!”

Harry tried to speak. His mouth opened, but all that came out was a choked gasp.

“Harry? Love, what’s wrong? Harry?” Anne’s voice raised even further.

Niall reached over and plucked the phone from Harry's hand. “Hang on a mo’, Anne,” he said quietly. He pushed off of the couch and gave a jerk of his head for Liam to take his place. Quickly, the spot was filled and Niall trailed a gentle hand over Harry's face as he stepped away. “Haz?” he asked. “Everything?”

Harry gave a nod before burying his face in Liam’s shoulder, and Niall lifted the phone to his own ear and walked out of the room. He moved into the hall and gestured with the phone to one of two men on the door. “I have to take this call, can you let me in to one of the other rooms?” With a nod, he was let in to what he thought had originally been Lilo’s room and he took a deep breath as he shut the door behind him.

“Anne, are you still there?” he asked.

“Yes,” a tremulous voice came. “I rang up Gemma, too. I’ve conferenced her in. Niall, what is wrong with my boy?”

“Hi, Gemma,” Niall sighed. “Okay, ladies, this is going to be hard. I need you to be sitting down and I need you to be patient with me.”

“Niall, you’re scaring us,” Gemma pointed out.

“Yeah, well, now you know how I’ve felt for the last 36 hours!” he bit out, then sighed again. “That was shitty and mean-spirited, and I apologize. Please, just let me…Please.”

He heard a sniff and an indrawn breath, then a gentle hum. “It’s all right, love. Tell us what you can in your own time,” Anne said.

“Day before yesterday, we did a press meet,” Niall began. “The lot of us went upstairs, but Harry had to wee. He hit the loo before coming up, and that’s…that’s where they found him.”

“They?” Gemma said sharply. “The release said one man.”

“Well, Management did the release, and we all know how they spin shit, don’t we?” he spat. “It weren’t one man. It were four. Four pissed off bastards looking to punish someone cause their girls had pop star crushes. They…they dragged him down to the basement and…and beat the shite out of him.”

Gemma growled. 

“But, it didn’t stop there, did it? They…they…” He gagged a little on the lump in his throat. “They raped him, Anne,” he finally just spat it out. “Two of the motherfuckers raped him.”

Anne gave a tiny cry. “No!” she whispered. “No, not my baby.”

“They was videoing t’whole thing.” Niall knew he was lapsing into a heavy accent. He hoped they knew him well enough to catch what he was saying. He really didn’t want to say any of it ever again. “Made him say things. It was supposed ta be a message to their girls how the fag popstar wouldn’t want ta shag a girl anyway. When they was done, they sent it to her, then they sent it to me. We…we had ta watch t’whole thing to find him, Anne,” Niall gulped down the sob hovering in his throat. “They just left him laying there. We got to him as quick as we could, Anne. I swear it. We took him to the hospital.”

“Is…is he…”

“No, mum, obviously he’s not all right!” Gemma snapped.

Anne could clearly be heard beginning to cry.

“He’s…he’s doing as well as he can be,” Niall offered. “There’s no…lasting damage. He’s beaten pretty good. A few stitches. Nothing was…nothing was torn too badly. He’s on meds. He still needs more blood tests, but…”

Anne gave a loud sob and Niall cursed himself. “Anne, Anne, I’m so sorry.” He knew he was one harsh word away from bursting into tears himself. 

There was just quiet crying from both ends of the line for a long time. Then, Anne cleared her throat and sniffed firmly. “Niall, are you taking care of my baby?”

“God, yes, mum! I mean, ma’am,” Niall blurted.

A tiny laugh came through. “Mum is fine, love. I know my Harry well enough to know that he’s somehow blaming himself for all of this. And I know that nothing I say will help. It will probably only make it worse because he’ll feel he’s disappointing me, as well. So, I want you to tell my baby that I love him. That I’m proud of him. That I do not blame him for anything. And when he has his feet a bit more under him, I expect a call from him so I can tell him all of that myself. Until then, I am leaving my baby in your hands, Niall Horan. You hold him together, you hear me?”

“Yes, mum,” he whispered. 

“You and Louis and Liam and Zayn are his family. I trust you with him. I trust you to get him through this. Thank you for loving my Harry, Niall.”

“I couldn’t do anything else, Anne.”

“I know. Thank you for talking to me. I’m…I’m going to have a think now. Maybe curl up with Robin and cry a bit,” she gave a rueful laugh. 

“All right. Night, Anne.”

“Goodnight, Niall. Goodnight, Gemma, love. Don’t keep Niall on too long.”

“I won’t, mum. Love you.”

There was a click and silence reigned again on the line.

“Fuck!” Niall suddenly burst out.

“What? What happened?” Gemma demanded.

“I was so worked up about telling you both what happened, I never got to the part where one of those bastards showed up at the concert tonight!”

“What? Harry—”

“Harry's fine, love. The fucker came up to the stage and Harry saw him. He run for the back woods, but some tiny little fan’s huge brother knocked him on his arse. He was arrested on the spot. Fuck! I shoulda led with that!” Niall could have kicked himself. 

Gemma snorted, then began to giggle. “Only you, Nialler,” she said fondly, tears still evident in her voice. “I’ll ring mum back and tell her. You just go take care of my brother.”

“The other lads have him now. He’s in good hands.”

Gemma hesitated. “I’m sure he’s well in hand, Niall. But I know a bit more about my brother’s heart than even our mum. He needs you. Please be there for him. Please don’t let him down.”

“I would never do that, Gemma. I love him.”

“I…truly hope you do, Niall,” she near whispered. “Give him my love. Tell him I’m going to text him rather than ring, because I understand how being a millennial works and he doesn’t need to hear me being all weepy, anyway.”

“All right. I’ll let him know. Thank you, Gemma.”

“For what?”

“For not blaming me,” he said quietly.

“Ah, Niall, love. I can hear in your voice how much you’re already blaming yourself. You know Harry doesn’t blame you. Would never. You can’t help him if you’re stuck on guilt. You need to get over it and just be there for him.”

“I’ll try.”

“Thank you, Niall. Night.”

“Night.”

He hung up and threw himself down on the bed, arm flung over his eyes. He gave himself five more minutes, then shook himself and made the trek back to the room. 

Harry could tell Niall had been crying again. The swollen eyes and red cheeks gave it away. But he had a smile on anyway. “Your mum and sister both told me to tell you they love you,” Niall said. Harry nodded. “They’ll give you some space, but you’re expected to call your mum when you feel better. Gemma says she’s a millennial and won’t bother calling you, so expect her texts.”

“Did they…are they…”

 

“They’re upset, of course,” Niall admitted. “But they are strong, amazing women. They’re worried about you, certainly. And I got an earful of how I’m supposed to take care of you, so you’ll just have to suck it up and let me, because I’m under orders.”

Harry smiled through new tears and nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

Liam hopped up and gave his place back to Niall. Niall crawled in and dragged Harry half in his lap, wrapping his arms around him. “Now, what’s worth watching tonight?”  
_______________________________________________

As good as his word, Simon’s lawyers are there at the hotel bright and early the next morning with options. And suggestions. And more options. He’d watched all six suit-wearing, barracuda-expressioned men and women take over every flat surface in the hotel room with legal documents designed to help him. They’d squabbled and nitpicked and bullied one another. And after the first hour in what looked to be a long day, Harry had to take a moment in the bathroom to pull himself together. 

He was properly terrified of Management, but this crew of Simon’s looked eager to take them on. He’d always known Simon had a special place for One Direction in his heart, but to see Simon just hand over his legal team to protect Harry was overwhelming. 

However, after four hours of legalese, Harry's head was near to bursting. He’d lost Louis and Zayn to the far corner of the room where they were texting their girlfriends, and even Liam was sidling closer to their sides than Harry’s. Niall was the only one left, determinedly sitting next to Harry, holding his hand even though Harry could see his eyes glazing over. Finally, Harry just interrupted the lawyer currently speaking. 

“Please,” he begged, running his free hand through his hair. “I don’t want to appear ungrateful, but I dropped out of school to make music. Nearly everything you all have shared has gone over my head and I feel…really stupid right now,” he said with a wince. “Could someone please take pity on me, and just _tell_ me what to do?”

Shuffling papers and darting glances were his response, and he bit his lip. He hated feeling ignorant, and he hated feeling like he was letting everyone down because he didn’t understand something. He heaved a sigh and nodded reluctantly, trying to prepare himself to dive in again when one of the female lawyers pursed her lips and pushed her paperwork to the side. 

“Tell me, Harry Styles, what kind of cake you want to make from these broken eggs?” she asked, looking him dead in the eye.

He met her eyes in confusion. “What?” 

“You have several avenues of pursuit that allow you few to no repercussions from Management, but none of that matters until you actually decide what you want to do with the shitstorm that just landed in your lap,” she said plainly. Liam stopped sidling away and Louis and Zayn perked up, peering over at the suited cluster of humans.

“Do you want to brush it under the table?” she asked. “Leave it with the world thinking you’re some sort of horny boytoy that can’t keep his dick off of another man’s woman?” Harry blinked, beyond surprised to hear one of them phrasing anything so bluntly. “Do you want them to know there was more to the story than first glance, but hide your rape? Do you want to come clean and share your story with the public, who may or may not hoist you on your own petard?” 

“Those are all horrible choices,” he said, frowning after a long pause. 

She snorted a small laugh. “They are. And there are mitigating factors. Michael Castor, the captured assailant, will be tried in court, as will any of the other three they catch. This _will_ get out to the public. So, in my humble opinion, you need to make the decision to either get out in front of it now, or let it roll you over arse over teakettle later.” 

“So, you think I should just tell the truth? Risk the band’s future?” Harry winced. 

She tilted her head curiously, then sat back with her legs crossed. “May I be honest with you, Mr. Styles?”

“Please,” Harry gripped Niall's hand tightly. 

“I was raped in University.”

The room fell absolutely silent. The lawyers froze, shooting nervous glances at one another, and the three other boys stopped any pretense of not listening, and moved up to pile on the couch around Niall and Harry. The lawyer gave a tiny smirk as she nodded at their reintegration to the group. 

“Party got out of hand, I didn’t have a safe ride home, so I just went with it and hoped for the best. I didn’t get the best. I did the walk of shame from some drug house in the shitty part of town to the nearest bus stop, then slunk back to my dorm trying to avoid catty comments and poorly hidden smirks.” Harry's free hand came up to squeeze at his chest and the woman’s smile went a little sad.

“I was too afraid to tell anyone that I’d been stupid, so I let them think I was a slut, crawling in at the crack of dawn with smeared makeup and torn clothes. And for years afterward, I was too ashamed to tell anyone I was afraid to be alone, but also afraid to be touched. I was too disgusted with myself to tell anyone that the smell of tequila and cigarettes, and anything played by the Sex Pistols still makes me throw up in my mouth a little.” Harry's thoughts flew to how he’d never be able to enjoy the smell of cherries again. 

“I thought no one else in the world had ever felt like I felt. And I _knew_ then, intellectually, that that was shite. Just like I know now. Still, you are the first person to hear that story since it happened to me 15 years ago, Mr. Styles. Do you know what I wanted more than anything, back then?”

Harry shook his head, transfixed by her story. 

“I wanted to be normal again. I wanted to be able to find comfort while not being painted with the stain of ‘rape victim’. Because that’s what I would have been labeled had I come forward. Another victim. Another statistic. It was bullshit then, it’s bullshit now.” She leaned forward, narrowing her gaze. 

“There is _nothing_ wrong with a person who is sexually attacked. It is _not_ their fault. They should not be ashamed to lift their faces to the world and demand the guilty party be punished accordingly. I would have given anything to not have experienced what I did. Barring that improbability, I would have given anything to know that I wasn’t alone. That someone I looked up to, that I trusted, understood me. Understood how I felt. And stood _with_ me in my fear and shame and guilt and anger and sorrow. 

“I truly can’t tell you what to do, Mr. Styles,” she shrugged slightly. “I don’t know you. But I do know me. I know who I was. And who I was then--that scared, ashamed, desperate person--makes me determined today to be the kind of person I needed then. So, Mr. Styles. Harry. Look to your future, to who you’ll become. Will that person be able to say, ‘I am today who I needed then’?” 

In the dead silence that followed, the woman got to her feet and began to gather up her papers. “I’d say you have about 48 hours to make whatever choice you’re going to make, Mr. Styles. When you come to a decision, please let our offices kn—” 

“I want to release a statement refuting Modest Management’s stance on my attack,” Harry blurted out, jumping to his feet. “I want to tell the truth about it without them shutting me down and without destroying the band. If I can’t do that without breaking contract and leaving the band then I—” 

“Don’t you even start that fucking shite about leaving us, again, Haz,” Niall nearly growled. Harry looked back to see every one of the boys on their feet behind him. 

“You tell the truth, Harry,” Zayn nodded. “And if we go down, we’ll go down together.” 

“I think it’s much more likely that our slightly feral, yet amazing fan base will have our backs like none other,” Louis added smugly. 

Harry smiled. “Probably.” He turned back to the lawyers. “So, find me whatever option works best to do that.” 

The pride in the woman’s face very nearly brought tears to Harry’s eyes. “Very good, Mr. Styles. I will have a release ready for your attention within the next 24 hours and a platform on which you may express it within the next 48.”

48 hours later found Harry standing at a podium, his mates at his back and 100 journalists at his front. Cameras flashed and the scratch of pen against paper was almost a tangible thing. He felt his legs shake and locked his knees to compensate. Niall nudged his own into the back of Harry's.

“Don’t do that, Haz,” he murmured in Harry's ear. “You’ll pass out and then we’ll have to do another release for that.” Harry huffed a small laugh, then nodded and bent his legs again. Niall made up for it by leaning into him. Somehow the addition of 140 pounds of wiggly boy actually shored up Harry's equilibrium and he planted his feet, feeling just a bit more protected.

A man Harry knew only vaguely from Simon’s PR team leaned in to speak into the microphone. “All right, if we could have it quiet, Mr. Styles would like to begin.” Soon, shuffling and cleared throats were the only sounds in the huge room.

“Thank you for coming, today,” Harry began, his voice slow and slightly hoarse with strain. “I have two announcements to make. The first is a rebuttal of a press release offered by Modest Management earlier this week to explain away the circumstances of an incident occurring on May 26, 2014. In this release, Modest Management has kept to the spirit of the truth while blatantly avoiding the letter of it. I would like to make correction to that at this time.” 

He didn’t dare make eye contact with the members of the Management team off to the right of the cameras, but he knew that there was probably someone filming it and he made a mental reminder to look it up later. 

“I would like to reiterate that nothing that Modest Management has stated has been in error. I was indeed involved in an altercation with a man angry over a personal issue. He did assault me and then flee the scene. He has since been caught by law enforcement and is currently being held on several charges.” 

Harry paused as murmurs raced through the crowd. He hoped like hell that the team of lawyers had an ironclad lock on his loophole, otherwise he was going to be naked to the public, unemployed and probably quite broke by the end of the day. He took a deep breath and continued.

“However, there are a few more pertinent unaddressed facts, which leads me to my second announcement. On the afternoon in question, I was followed into the restroom of a local hotel by not one, but four men. I was forcefully taken from there to another location where the four men proceeded to don masks and state to me that they were angry with the members of the band, One Direction. 

“According to them, their girlfriends had developed crushes on various band members that the men felt were detrimental to their personal relationships. They stated that they were going to make me pay for that. They proceeded to film me being beaten. In addition to fists and feet, I also suffered an injury from a bladed weapon. Then I was stripped, thrown on a table and…raped by two of my attackers.”

He had to stop again. Not only did a shocked dull roar resound from the audience, but he sort of felt like he’d swallowed his tongue after saying that sentence in public. He guessed that a couple of the journalists were actually fans given the pained cries that came with his announcement. Niall leaned in again, a comforting weight resting all along his back, and Louis rested a hand on his shoulder. 

“When the sexual assault was f-finished, the men sent the video to my bandmates upstairs and fled the scene. My friends raced to my side and rushed me to A&E, where I received the help I needed. The next day, Modest Management put out their truncated press release. The day after that, one of my assailants came to the concert One Direction offered at the Stadium of Light. It was then, through the bravery and heroism of a fan, that the assailant was arrested and charged. At this time, law enforcement is still on the lookout for the other three men, but they assure me that they should have them all in custody soon.”

He shuffled pages, moving from the precise and word-perfect document the lawyers helped him to create to one that, though it had less weight behind it, meant more to Harry than the first. “I chose today to share this story with you for several reasons. The first of which is that, with the capture of one or more of the attackers, this will obviously go to trial. The public will be able to follow it to its conclusion and it makes no sense to attempt to hide it now when it will clearly be available for public perusal later. 

“The second reason is that I did nothing wrong. I did not purposefully lure or provoke any action by these four men. I did not ask for it, either with imagined behaviors nor with false stereotypical rumors. A crime was committed against me and celebrity or not, male or not, that crime deserves to be answered for by the people who committed it. I will not be vilified for demanding justice. I will not stand idly by and allow dangerous men to go free when I have the opportunity to stop them. 

“My third reason is that I am not alone. I am not the only person, woman or man, to have been raped. I am not the only person to feel overwhelmed and terrified and ashamed. I am not the only one to be made to feel as though I somehow brought this on myself. If my actions here today and in the future help even one person--man, woman, boy or girl—feel less alone themselves, then I have succeeded. 

“To them, I say: you are not alone. You are not unloved nor unwanted. You are an amazing person who has had a horrible thing done to them. You are not at fault. You did not ask for this. Seek out help. Seek out support. Love yourself, accept love from others. We are not victims. We will not behave as victims. We are survivors. I love you all. Thank you for your time.”  
_____________________________________

The two-week break before the American leg of the tour was upon them. It was a different feel to the breaks of the past. Then, they would all go their separate ways, do their own thing, and meet up again with stories to tell. Now, no one wanted to leave. Plans that had been made _Before_ seemed trivial now, and the thought of separating seemed almost painful. 

After a whirlwind of packing, all five lads met up in Harry and Niall's room again to say goodbye. Luggage was piled up in a small mountain by the door and their owners were equally piled up on one another on the couch. Liam was the first to break the silence. 

“So, I can’t be the only one that feels like we should stick together.”

Zayn shook his head. “Naw, bro, you’re not. Feel it, too.”

“No,” Harry interrupted. “Absolutely not. You are not going to put your lives on hold for this shit. I will be fine. Zayn, you have been talking about a romantic getaway with Perrie for weeks now. And Louis, you need to spend time with Eleanor, especially since the rumor mill will start up about Larry again after today. And Liam, Sophia has been very patient with you these last few months getting ready for the tour. You promised her these two weeks.”

The three shrugged and looked slightly mollified.

“And Niall—”

“Oh, fuck no, mate,” Niall cut him off with a huge laugh. “Not gonna work on me.”

Harry huffed. “You’ve been getting close with Barbara. And I know you had plans to go see your parents. I don’t need a chaperone and I will be just fine. I’ve changed plans. I’m not going to be alone in LA. I’m staying right here in England. Thought I’d spend some time with my mum and sister.”

Niall nodded. “That sounds great, Haz. We can spend a week or so with your mum and sis, then hop on over to Mullingar to say hello to Bobby and Maura, then get our shit together and be ready to fly out from London to America at the end of two weeks.” He looked quite satisfied with the itinerary, and the other boys nodded in approval.

Harry sputtered. “That’s…that’s…I didn’t agree to any of that!”

Niall shrugged and leaned back into the couch. “No, sure didn’t.”

“But you and—”

“Me and…? Barbara? No. Was never gonna pan out. It was fun while it lasted, but I have more important things to do, and it’s best to just let it go.”

“What?” Harry nearly screeched. “You can’t just dump your girlfriend because you feel you need to babysit me!”

“I’m not babysitting you, Haz,” Niall replied calmly. “I made a choice. It was my choice and you don’t get to tell me it was the wrong one.”

“But…but you were going to see your family,” Harry protested helplessly.

“I still will see my family,” Niall laughed. “We’ll see them after we see Anne and Gemma. You can lug Theo around and make cookies with me mum. Maybe get drunk with Bobby and flirt with Denise to get Greg’s goat. It’ll be great fun.”

“Niall,” Harry's protests were getting quieter. “You can’t put your life on hold for me.”

Niall leaned up into Harry's face. “You are a part of my life, idiot. A big part. It’s been you and me since the beginning, yeah? Since X Factor, when you came wit me to Mullingar? You’re a part of my family, Harry Styles. You are important to me. You don’t get to tell me how much you mean to me, and you don’t get to tell me when it’s okay to care about you. I will still get to do everything I wanted to do during these two weeks. And I’ll get to do them with my best mate. I’m looking forward to it. Don’t ruin my vacation with your fretting.”

Harry continued to look helplessly at Niall and Louis gently punched him in the arm. 

“Won’t do you any good to argue with him, Hazza. He’s a stubborn Irishman. He’s your stubborn Irishman. Just go gracefully. It’ll make the rest of us feel better knowing he’s with you, anyway.”  
________________________________

He was, probably not so _secretly_ , pleased in the end that he’d let Niall kindly bully him into spending their break together. Niall had taken all things that required thought and made them into things Harry just needed to accept. What about sleeping arrangements at Anne’s? I’ll just pile these bags in our room. Back in a mo! What about Harry's desperate sneak peeks at Twitter and news snippets and articles that he knew better than to look at? I’ll carry your phone, Haz. If one of the lads texts, I’ll let you know.

Harry finds it easy to just slip into whatever slot Niall has for him. At times he feels like he should be more concerned with his emotional health after something so traumatic. He’s not sure his reactions are appropriate. He’s read that rape survivors don’t like to be touched. That they don’t like to give up autonomy. But whenever he starts to worry or dwell, there is Niall. Niall hugging him. Niall linking their fingers. Niall smiling and making a joke. Niall holding him. Niall whispering that he’s proud of him. NiallNiallNiall. 

And he lets him. Hell, he encourages it. He knows his mother and sister have noticed. Robin, too, probably. But Robin would never presume to judge. He asks his mum one day when Niall and Gemma are off at the store, more than likely arguing over everything as much like siblings as Harry and Gemma themselves. 

“Do you think I’m relying too much on Niall?” he said from his place next to his mum on the couch. Anne hummed thoughtfully, running her fingers through Harry's curls, before replying.

“No, I don’t think so. You aren’t asking anything more than he’s clearly willing to give. And he’s not giving you anything you’re not clearly willing to accept.”

“Is that weird, though? I-I’ve read that I should be more touch-shy. That I should want to make decisions for myself.”

Anne chuckled. “Darling, you’ve always hated making decisions for yourself. This isn’t the first time you’ve just gone along with whatever Niall has wanted. It’s pretty typical, honestly. It’s just that now you’re overthinking it, bringing it to the forefront. But nothing has really changed.”

“And the touching?”

Anne scratched at his head and he smiles a bit wryly. “Yeah, okay. I like being touched.”

“I don’t think there’s a handbook on what to do after you’ve been…violated. No two people are going to react the same way. And no way is wrong. Just different. Does the touch of other people frighten you now? People other than your people?”

“No. Not really. I still hugged the fans. And the doctor and nurse that helped me. I don’t…I don’t just assume they’re going to hurt me, I guess.”

“You can recognize the difference in intent. That’s a positive thing. Are you afraid of being touched intimately?”

“Mum!” Harry flushed. Anne rolled her eyes and smiled. Harry shrugged, half-heartedly. “I guess not. I mean, the night it happened, I couldn’t scrub myself down. I couldn’t bear to touch…those places.”

“How did you manage?”

Harry flushed darker. “Niall climbed in the shower with me. He washed my hair and…and cleaned me.”

“Were you afraid?”

“No,” he said softly. “I felt…safe? Cherished? He washed away their hands and covered me back up with…”

“Love?” Anne offered softly. Harry nodded. “You and Niall are…special. Special apart, but more so together. You care so much for one another. And that’s beautiful. Never be ashamed of loving someone, Harry.”

“But what if…what if it’s not the same for both of us?”

Anne sat quietly for some time. “Perhaps it’s different. I don’t know. Perhaps it’s the same. But the love you two share is beautiful and important. And if it is willingly offered and gratefully taken, there’s not a thing wrong with it. With you.”

Niall was also pleasantly pleased that Harry was capitulating to his every whim. He knew Harry trusted him implicitly and, while that was a heady feeling, it also came with its own concerns. He lay awake most nights worrying over the smallest facial expressions; puzzling over some odd turn of phrase. He held his breath nearly every time he touched Harry in the hope that the younger boy wouldn’t suddenly pull away. He credited it to having always been in Harry's space and the familiarity of it was what allowed him to continue.

But there were times. Times when he woke up in the middle of the night and glanced down at Harry's riot of curls on his chest and a tear on Harry's cheek. Times when he would see Harry's gaze go distant and his smile dim. Times when Harry would trip over a word or phrase that would trigger a memory. Those were the times when he wondered if he were doing it right after all.

It was on one of those nights that he’d woken up to a tiny whimper and glanced down to see a shining tear roll off of Harry's cheek onto his own chest. He tugged Harry closer and cuddled him, burying his face in Harry's hair and dropping small kisses to his hairline. Eventually, Harry's face smoothed out and a peaceful look fell over it. Niall, however, felt like he was about to explode. 

He carefully lowered Harry's head onto his pillow, and slid out of the bed. He pulled on some joggers and a t-shirt and padded barefoot downstairs. He moved all the way through the living room, past the kitchen and out the back door before he finally dropped onto the back stoop.

In the wee hours of the morning, Holmes Chapel was peaceful. Crickets and the random barking of a dog were the score to a backdrop of inky darkness and twinkling stars. Niall could feel the coiled tension in his chest slowly seeping away, and he thought it wasn’t very much different from laying out on the stoop in Mullingar. A sound behind him had his heart jerking wildly before he noted the fading blue and pink highlights and smelled the scent of Anne’s washing detergent.

“What are you doing out here, Irish?” Gemma asked before clearing her throat and hip-checking him over for some room on the stoop.

Niall shrugged and scooted over, clasping his hands over the top of his knees. “Just couldn’t sleep, I guess.”

Gemma hummed and leaned into him. “I’ve had a few nights like that, lately. You know what helps?”

“Hmmm?” Niall replied.

“I get up and wander down the hall to my brother’s room.” Niall stiffened slightly.” I crack the door and peek in. Then I see him there, safe as houses. Usually, he’s curled up into some leprechaun’s arms, a sweet smile on his face, sleeping peacefully and unafraid.”

Niall snorts, relaxing a bit. “Not always like that though, is it?”

“No?”

“No. Sometimes…he cries. Sometimes, he makes these soft whimpering noises under his breath. Sometimes, he even jerks awake.”

“Hmmm,” Gemma acknowledged. “He always seems fine in the morning.”

“Yeah, well, I can usually get him back into sleep. Just give him a cuddle and he’s happy; you know our Harry.”

“Yeah, yeah, I do know our Harry. I know our Harry cried for weeks every night after Dad left us. I know he’d crawl into bed with me some nights. I’d hold him, but he couldn’t stop crying. I know when he was getting so much hate over Taylor that he’d cry himself to sleep sometimes, too. Or when Louis basically told him to fuck off and never touch him again. That was a pretty awful time. That one bled all over the daytime, too. He was almost touch shy after that one.”

Niall frowned. “Really?”

Gemma snorted a laugh. “Not with you, eh?” Niall shook his head. “Well, that’s kind of my point, you idiot.” Niall looked over at her with an offended purse of his lips. “He’s never been touch shy with you. Not after Taylor, or Louis…not after this. You make him feel safe. Loved. So, he cries a bit. Or has a bad dream.”

“He shouldn’t have to—”

“No, he shouldn’t have to. No one should have to remember something like that. Experience something like that in the first place. But it’s not that surprising. Honestly, I expected much worse. I figured he’d be a right fucked up mess 24/7. Crying all the time, hiding from people. Lord knows, I’m pretty sure that’s where I’d be. But he’s not. He’s coping. He’s learning to live with it. He’s making something good come out of it. And I’m almost positive that’s because of you.”

Niall shook his head fiercely. “You don’t…you don’t know what…” Gemma butted his chin with her head and he absently lifted his arm up around her shoulders. “You don’t know what it was like…watching that clip. Watching what they did to him…” His voice was tight with barely suppressed tears.

“No, I don’t. And I’m sorry, but I will always be grateful that I don’t know. “

“They…they told him to call me. Text me down…to take his place,” Niall whispered.

Gemma tensed. “What?”

“They said they didn’t care which of us they taught the lesson to. They were willing to let him go. He just had to call me.”

“And you’re what? Surprised that he didn’t?”

“…No. No, I’m not. But…they kept using me. He’d move and they’d threaten to call me. So…so he’d just…lay there and…and take it…” Gemma pressed the back of her hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. “They made him tell that girl that he didn’t want her. He just wanted…me. They made him say my name. And then he just kept saying it. Like he couldn’t stop. They raped him while he whispered my name over and over again,” he said, his own voice dying to a whisper, itself.

Gemma let out a pained sob and Niall jerked back to the moment.

“Oh, Jesus fuck,” he berated himself, gathering her up in his arms.” Gemma, I’m so sorry. I…I forgot…I should have just kept my damn mouth shut.” He could feel her fingers clenching in his t-shirt and he mentally slapped himself. “Gemma, sweet girl, I’m so sorry.” 

“Niall,” she choked out, her voice heavy with tears. He held her for a long time, her body shaking in his arms. He whispered comfort to her. It was all over. Harry was all right. He was safe, upstairs sleeping in his own bed. Those men were caught. They’d never do this to anyone else ever again. And eventually, Gemma’s cries died down and she just sat in the circle of Niall's grasp being rocked gently.

She wiped her eyes and gave a small laugh. “Well, I suppose I can see why he’s doing so much better,” she said. “You have healing cuddles, Niall Horan.”

“I hope so, love,” he smiled back. “I hope I can cuddle the pain and fear completely gone, and he’s never afraid another minute in his life.”

She pulled away to look searchingly into his eyes. “You’re good for him, Niall. And I think he’s good for you. Don’t worry about all that other shite. Just love him. Let him love you. Take care of each other.”

He nodded. “I’ll try my best, love. I never want to hurt him.”

She leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek, then stood back up. “I’m headed back to bed. You should to, before Harry wakes up and finds you missing.”

“I’ll be up in a minute,” he agreed. He took a few minutes after the door shut behind her to just imagine what his life would be like without Harry in it. Just the thought was enough to send him to his feet, quickly moving back to the comfort of Harry's room. Harry lay much like he’d left him, but the smile was missing. 

Niall carefully crawled back into the bed and lifted Harry's head up on his chest. He snugged his arms around him and settled in to watch feathery light lashes pillow on Harry's pale cheeks. Harry snuffled against Niall's chest for a moment, and there…there was that smile. Niall drifted off to sleep with that smile projected across his dreams.  
_______________________________

Harry loved visiting with Bobby and Maura. He was amazed that they both still got along well enough to have family visits together, even after more than 10 years divorced. Harry's own mum was cordial with Des, but there was no way they’d spend Christmas together, much less just pop in out of the blue for dinner. 

Maura was just like a second mum to Harry, and Bobby clearly doted on Niall and by way of Niall, Harry. Harry was welcomed into Bobby’s home with a hug and a manly clap on the back as usual, though the hug lasted longer than usual and the squeeze was tighter than it had ever been before. Harry blinked away tears that this man, who by all rights should be a mere acquaintance, cared enough about him to offer his affection.

Harry had initially been concerned about staying with Bobby given Harry and Niall's new openly ignored touchiness. In the past when Harry had come visiting, the boys had shared a room. Back then, when Greg had still had a bedroom in the house, the boys were much younger. Now that Greg was married, with a son, and no longer likely to need the extra room, Harry wondered if Bobby would insist on giving a larger Harry his own room. He also wondered if he would be able to handle being separated from Niall for the whole night. 

He should have known better. Bobby just grabbed Harry's bag, smiled widely at Niall and asked, “Your room, son?” Niall nodded with a shy smile, and that was the end of it. 

Harry and Niall were firmly entrenched in making dinner from scratch when Maura and Chris dropped by. Chris greeted him with a clap on the back and headed out to the living room with a beer in hand to chat with Bobby while Maura waited for the boys to dry their hands off. 

She hugged Niall and kissed his cheeks, saying he looked too skinny. Niall groaned and rolled his eyes as she’d known he would, and she moved on to Harry. She cupped his face in her hands first, blue eyes searching his green. Then she nodded once and pulled him down to her shoulder. She hugged him as tightly as Bobby had and Harry buried his face into her sweet-smelling hair. And that was the extent of that. 

Greg, Denise and Theo pulled up just as dinner came out of the oven. Harry and Niall both bounded out to the living room in excitement and let out a cheer when Theo toddled in next to Denise. Denise laughed and waved Theo on inside to greet his uncle and honorary uncle. Harry and Niall paused long enough to shake Greg’s hand and drop a kiss on Denise’s cheeks and they were off being rambunctious with little Theo while Denise headed to the kitchen to put dessert down.

Dinner went down with Harry and Niall bracketing Theo’s high chair, taking turns coaxing him into trying everything on his plate. Everyone was all smiles, except for Greg. Niall glared at his older brother during an eyeroll at Niall calling Harry ‘Uncle Haz’. And Maura frowned briefly as Greg snorted rudely upon Harry telling Theo he had to eat his veggies to grow up big and strong like Niall.

Harry pretended not to hear Greg muttering under his breath as Theo practically fell asleep in his mashed potatoes and Harry offered to put him down in the spare room. He knew something had been said while he was gone, because, after his return, the mood was subdued, Denise looked embarrassed and Niall had made it all the way to right pissed.

Soon, dinner was over and Harry and Niall offered to do the washing up, mostly to get out of the heavy angsty silence that had fallen over the group. Unfortunately, when dishes were done, there was nowhere else to go but back out in the living room. Niall brought out another round of beers for the men and Harry broke out a new wine he’d picked up for himself, Maura and Denise. They were sitting, quietly chatting, when it all went wrong.

Greg kept directing a frown his wife’s way each time one of the ladies tittered over a Harry comment. Finally, he just huffed and petulantly called over to Denise, “You’d best go easy on the drinking, wife. You’re driving us home later.” Maura narrowed her eyes at her eldest, but Denise just gave a tense, pained smile and nodded, setting her glass down. 

Bobby snorted. “What the hell? Let her drink and enjoy herself. You can always kip up in your room if you can’t drive home.”

“And kick your precious Harry out of his bed?” Greg slurred a bit. “Couldn’t have that.”

Niall clenched his hand around his bottle and shot a glare at Greg. “Harry isn’t in your room. He’s in mine. Your room is empty.”

Greg stared, openmouthed. “You’re sleeping together in your room? Two grown men in that little bed?”

Niall's chin came up and the rest of the room seemed to screech to a halt. “Yeah, we are. You have a problem with that?”

Greg snorted and tipped his bottle at Niall. “You sure it weren’t you what got buggered?”

Harry froze, his hand halfway out to his glass. He felt tears spring unbidden to his eyes and slowly pulled his hand back into his lap. Gasps came from the ladies as well as an ‘oi!’ from Bobby. 

Harry was afraid to look at Niall. If he had, he would have seen a cold fury close over his face as Niall carelessly dropped his bottle on the coffee table and rose to his feet. A moment later, and Niall was launching over the table, teeth bared and fists clenched as he planted one punch upside Greg’s cheek and the second deep into his gut.

The room burst into motion. The brothers went after each other tooth and nail. The coffee table was kicked aside and Niall rode Greg’s body back down into and then over the top of the chair the older man had been sitting in. Bobby waded into the midst and snagged the back of Greg’s shirt, dragging him out like a mother cat, while Chris moved in behind Niall and wrapped both arms around the younger man’s waist. He picked him up and set him back down on the other side of the table in front of his mother.

Niall attempted to turn around and go back after Greg, but Maura put her smaller body in the way and planted her hand on her youngest son’s chest. Niall growled in anger, but refused to shove over his tiny mother to continue past. Once it was clear Maura had Niall, if not under control, that at least at bay, Chris stepped back over the table to help Bobby corral a still thrashing Greg.

“Enough!” Bobby bellowed, and the room came to a halt. 

Greg staggered to his feet, sneering at Niall through an eye that was quickly swelling shut. “Come on, Da! Let the little arselicker give it his best shot! Or maybe he’d like to let his ladyboy step in!”

“How dare you, Greg Horan!” Maura snapped.

“Really, Ma? Remember me? Your son? Your real son, that is. Not that little shirtlifting prick your baby boy dragged home.”

Niall looked like he might lunge back at Greg, even if he had to go through his mum to do it, but Denise stepped in. “You shut your filthy mouth,” she hissed. “Go home, Greg. Get out of this house this instant and go the hell home.”

“But you’ve got to drive me,” Greg whined. 

“Like hell, I do. I’ll call you a damn cab, or you can walk your disgusting arse there by yourself. When you get there, you can have the whole night alone to think how you can make up for the way you’ve shamed yourself here tonight. I am so disgusted with you, I can hardly look at you! You come into your father’s home, in front of your mum, and disrespect their guest like that?”

“He’s not their guest,” Greg screwed up his face mutinously. “He’s Niall's.”

“I don’t give a shite whose guest he is,” Denise screeched. “This isn’t your house, Greg! Your shitty, hateful opinion is neither needed nor wanted! And you are bloody insane if you think I’m going to have my son grow up in the shadow of your asinine bigotry! Now, I don’t care if you walk, call a cab or fucking fly on that broomstick up your arse, but you will get out of your father’s house right the fuck now!”

Greg just blinked owlishly at her as she stormed off upstairs to her son.

“Get your things, Greg,” Maura said, a core of steel in her voice. “Chris and I will drop you off at your house on the way back home.”

“Mum…” he whined.

“Now, Greg!” Maura bit out. “I don’t think you know how very close I am to just turning Niall loose again and to hell with you! I am also disgusted with your behavior and quite ashamed to call you family right now. You will get your things and get in that car without one single word more or I will slap you myself.”

“B—”

“One! Single. Word. Greg.”

Angrily, Greg snatched up his jacket and marched out the door, slamming it shut after him. Maura took a moment to close her eyes and breathe in deeply. When she opened them, and took in the rest of the room, her heart broke.

Bobby eyed Niall, pain evident on his face. He’d never felt he had much to offer his sons, just a home where they were promised to always be loved and safe. And Bobby had just watched one son slap down the love and safety of the other, and he could do nothing to stop it, and it was obviously killing him.

Niall was staring at Harry, looking helpless and stricken. The ache in his heart and the anger in his body were both evident in the rapid cycling of emotion on his face. Niall, her baby, her dreamer. He loved so easily, so completely. He lived and breathed loyalty and protection, and to have someone else—especially someone he’d thought he’d have no reason to distrust—break the spirit of the one person Niall would have lived and died for, the one he’d vowed to protect…

And Harry. Sweet, pure Harry. She supposed Greg might have a point, because right now, she wanted to slap her actual son stupid, while wanting to coo over and cuddle another woman’s son. But, how could she not? How could she not love this awkward, gangly little boy who so readily befriended her chatterbox child, traveling to another country to be with him, mere weeks after they met? How could she not adore that he’d shown Niall that loving your mum, showing affection to her, didn’t make you less? 

He was so kind, always a sweet word, always remembering birthdays, anniversaries, favorite flowers and colors. He’d given Niall a reason to mature, to take responsibility, to blossom. And he’d done it all with a huge dimpled smile and never a bad word about or to anyone. 

And to watch him now, looking so broken, so shattered in front of her. Wrapping his arms around his own thin waist to ward off anymore hurt. Refusing to meet the eyes of anyone in the room, while his own eyes brimmed full with hurt tears. She could practically see his body curling in on himself, becoming smaller, becoming less.

All because of men who felt themselves _less_ , and who tried to feel better by hurting one who held no prejudice, held no hate, one who brought nothing but joy.

Yes, it broke her heart.

She waved Chris out to the car and briefly touched Bobby on the shoulder. They shared a look, one they hadn’t had in so very many years, that promised they’d make this right. She nodded at him, then circled round to Niall. She put a hand behind his neck and tugged his face down. She pressed her nose, hard, into his fleshy cheek; trying to pass along strength and patience, then she freed him. He didn’t look much better, but he did try to give a ghost of a smile to her before she moved on.

On to Harry. His face was a picture in misery, his body language screaming please-no-more. She sat on the coffee table in front of him and reached out to place her hand on his knee. She flinched when he did. 

“Harry, love,” she said softly, kindly. “I’m going to go now, but I will be back before you leave for America. I want to see you again, to visit hopefully. But if not, at least to wish you luck and give you a kiss goodbye. I am so very sorry for what has happened here today. None of it was your fault. You have no blame in this. You are a special, kind and wonderful boy, and I love you dearly. We all do. You are a blessing to this family, to Niall, and I never want you to think differently.”

With that, she stood, leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on the crown of curls on Harry's head, then took her leave out the door.

“I’m…” Bobby cleared his throat. “I’m gonna check on Denise. You boys go on up to your room. I’ll take care of cleaning up when I come back down.”

Niall nodded, rubbing his hand up his face and over his hair. “Thanks, Da,” he said quietly.

Bobby picked a path through the furniture and made his way up to the room that housed his daughter-in-law and his grandson. 

Niall moved in front of Harry and his hands fluttered helplessly for a moment before settling on Harry's wiry upper arms. He tugged gently upward and was grateful when Harry followed. He had to pry Harry's hands off of his elbows to link their fingers, but when he had them, he led Harry upstairs to the privacy of his childhood bedroom.

Niall gently pushed Harry onto the bed and knelt before him to remove his shoes and socks. He stood and toed his own off before pulling Harry to his feet again to tug his jeans off of his slim waist. He shucked his own jeans and yanked his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere behind him. Careful fingers pulled Harry's shirt off and then directed him to crawl under the comforter. Niall slipped in after and pulled Harry up against him. He wrapped his arms around the younger man, letting Harry bury his face in Niall's neck.

No words were exchanged. Small sniffles and the hot/cold of tear tracks down Niall's chest told him Harry was still awake nearly an hour after they’d crawled into bed.

“I’m s—”

“No,” Niall cut him off firmly. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry. There is not a thing on this Earth that you could have done to Greg to deserve what he just did you.”

“He…he didn’t do anything. “

“Really?” Niall craned his head to look down at Harry, who ducked his head to avoid Niall's laser stare. “He didn’t do anything? So, he didn’t make you feel like an intruder in this house where you are most definitely invited and wanted? Or suggest that you were somehow less of a man because you might like men? He didn’t bring up the worst moment in your life in some sick joke, then suggest that maybe you turned me gay?”

A quiet wordless mumble was his answer.

“What Greg said, what he did, was inexcusable. And every single person that was in this house tonight agrees with me.”

“Is…is this wrong?” Harry questioned after a long silence.

“Is what wrong, Hazza?”

“You…and me? Here, together, in this room. In this bed?”

“No. Nonono,” Niall squeezed Harry's slight body tighter to his.

“I know…I know I come across as…as pretty gay in general. I’m not surprised that’s what he thinks. Or that he thinks I’m trying to turn you gay, too.”

“So, what if you are? You agree with Greg that I’m too stupid to make a decision about my own sexuality?”

“No!” Harry's head shot up off of Niall's chest and he got a look at the misery swimming in those green eyes.

“Do you honestly think I get nothing out of this?” Niall frowned quizzically. “That I don’t get comfort from holding you? From taking care of you?”

“That’s all you’ve done for the last two weeks, Niall.” Harry fell back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. “You’ve spent every night in my bed. You’ve run yourself ragged doing for me. You’ve endured my every whim, my hysteria, my panic attacks, my whining. You bathed me, for fuck’s sake. I’ve dragged our band’s reputation through the mud by climbing up on a high horse of righteous indignation. I’ve dragged your personal reputation through the mud by clinging to you like some half-witted idiot every time we’ve gone in public. I’ve caused a fight between your family members. I’ve—”

“Okay, shut up, Harry.” Niall sat up in bed and glared down at him. “You clearly don’t have any idea how important you are to me. And I guess that’s my fault. I guess I don’t show you enough.”

“No, I—”

Niall held a hand up and Harry ground to a stop. “You are my best friend, Harry,” Niall continued softly. “You are truly my favorite person in this entire world. I love you dearly. Nothing I’ve done these past two weeks has been selfless. They’ve actually been rather selfish. 

“I feel good when I hold you. I feel good when I make you smile. I feel good that you can fall asleep in my arms and feel protected. I want desperately to step between you and any hurt that comes your way. I want to be the one you rely on. The one you turn to when you’re afraid, in pain, lonely. I am proud to have you next to me in public. I am proud to hug you, to hold your hand. I would do that as Niall Horan, pop star, or as Niall Horan, Tesco worker.

“I’m not ashamed to do that in front of our fans, in front of our families, in front of our friends. I fully plan on doing that in front of the lawyers Management throws at us, and in front of the jury at that fuckstick’s trial. You, Harry Edward Styles, are in my head. You’re in my heart, and under my skin, and I’m pretty sure you’re lodged up in my soul. I am not now, nor will I ever be ashamed of loving you. And I will spend the rest of my life trying to prove that to you by sleeping in your bed, or by bathing you, or by jumping at your every whim and definitely by letting you hang all slinky-like off of me…if you’ll let me.”

“Yeah?” Harry managed a wibbly, watery smile.

“Yeah,” Niall smiled back. “Now get the fuck back over here and stop crying. You’re making my chest all pruny.”

Harry poked him in the side with a laugh, but nestled up against him again. Niall had almost drifted off again when, “Niall?”

“Wha’ love?”

“I love you, too.”

“Mmm, I know, Haz.”


End file.
